Am I The Best You've Ever Had
by dozefallsdownthestairs
Summary: Arthur Kirkland was a menace to society by all appearances. Even the McDonalds uniform could do nothing to soften him up. Alfred knew he shouldn't care, but he did anyway. USUK
1. Chapter 1

**hey guys! I've been writing on this obsessively over the past few days and I hope you like it. I never worked at McDonalds but I worked fast food during a lot of high school, so hopefully I'm not too off-base here!**

 **((also sorry for any typos. no beta.))**

 **much love, doze**

* * *

Alfred first met Arthur at McDonald's. It was his first day on the job. The manager had slammed the drive through headset over his ears and he was fumbling to figure out what to do with it. Just as he was beginning to completely lose his shit at the line of backed up cars, he was grabbed by the collar of his shirt, a takeout bag shoved into his chest.

"You bag."

The headset was ripped away and he turned in surprise to face his unlikely savior. The guy was short, a wild tuft of blonde hair flying out under his hat's rim. His ears glittered with rings and he had one at the corner of his thick dark eyebrows. A tattoo peaked out of his shirt on the back of his neck and he smelled strongly of cigarettes. His eyes, though, were his most noticeable feature. A fluorescent green rimmed in black liner.

"Bag," the boy reminded him impatiently, waving at the screen with all the orders on it. When he spoke, Alfred noticed he had a wad of white gum in his left cheek.

Alfred fumbled to shove a Big Mac into the bag. "Th-thanks man," he said gratefully. "It's my first day."

"I noticed," the other boy said coolly, not even really looking out the window as he handed food off. His fingers tapped a jarring rhythm against the counter, before he would squeeze his hand into a fist and repeat the process.

"So, I'm Alfred," Alfred plunged on, but the boy seemed to be doing his best to not pay attention. His erratic tapping grew more insistent as he all but shoved bags into customers' faces. When the silence continued, Alfred stuttered. "What's your name?"

"What's it to you?" The boy spat, actually spat, leaning out the window between cars to do it.

"Nothing, I guess." Alfred sighed, shoving another order his way. He couldn't help but scowl. "It is common decency to exchange pleasantries, so far as I've noticed."

The boy snorted. "Then I don't have common decency. Sounds about bloody right." At the last car, he turned to face Alfred with his arms crossed. "Arthur. My name's Arthur."

Alfred nodded suddenly not sure what to do with his hands. Arthur continued to tap his against the counter, faster and almost feverish.

"Are you okay?" He finally asked when Arthur pulled his phone out to look at the time again.

"No," Arthur growled, folding napkins viciously into a bag. "I need a cigarette. This stuff doesn't do shit. Have you tried it?"

Alfred blinked in surprise when Arthur pulled out a smashed pack of nicotine gum from his pocket, scowling. "I- I don't-"

"Smoke, of course," Arthur interrupted, popping out another two tabs of gum and adding them to the wad in his mouth. "I don't know why I asked. Kid like you."

Alfred tilted his head curiously, taking in Arthur's appearance more clearly now that the rush was over. Arthur's shirt was sloppily untucked in places. The hair at the nape of his neck had a streak of black through it. His bottom lip was pierced too, and there was another tattoo that peeked out from under his shirt sleeve. Arthur's nails were black and he wore rings on most of his fingers.

"I've vaped before," He said cautiously, noticing what look suspiciously like needle tracks on Arthur's arm.

"Let me guess: vanilla creamsicle flavor?" Arthur asked derisively.

"Cherry, actually," Alfred corrected him with a chuckle. "Hey, it smelt better than you do." He flinched after he said it, certain he'd just offended the one worker who'd helped him out in a tight spot.

Arthur wrinkled his nose oddly. "Fuck off. I hardly smell anything anymore."

"Desensitization. Tragic." Alfred quipped, bagging a medium fry and handing it to him.

"If it means I don't have to withstand higher doses of your man perfume, then it's all right with me," Arthur shot back, returning to tapping on the counter and squeezing his hands into fists.

"It's cologne!" Alfred's voice squeaked indignantly.

"I don't care what it is. It's nauseating." Arthur smirked now. "You smell like a thirteen year old boy's gym locker."

"Ha." Alfred grumbled, beginning to get irritated. His brother had bought him this cologne. "At least, I don't smell like a hookah bar or a strip club."

He jumped when Arthur actually laughed, short and fast. It was over so quickly that he wondered if he'd imagined. That sort of permanent goading expression Arthur wore returned in full force.

Alfred cocked his head curiously. "When's your lunch break?"

"Five minutes." Arthur didn't have to check his phone again.

"Mind if I join you?"

The question was innocent enough. It was his first day on the job. He didn't know anybody else. Arthur had really helped him out back there. Nonetheless, he could tell by Arthur's expression and the fact that the cashier was eavesdropping on them, that'd he'd just done something unorthodox.

"With me?" Arthur repeated like Alfred must be pranking them. The cashier chortled as well.

"Sure?" Alfred shifted uneasily as Arthur's brows came down and his eyes hardened. "You helped me out," He continued quickly. "Why wouldn't I want to have lunch with someone like that?" He flinched backwards a little bit, certain he was about to get his ass kicked with so many words.

But it seemed he'd derailed Arthur's train and certainly convinced him that he wasn't joking. Arthur just looked confused now. "With me," he repeated almost to himself. Then he cleared his throat and continued loudly like he was trying to save face. "I wasn't doing it out of the goodness of my heart, you imbecile. You were holding up the line. We all would have been brought to task for it. And I don't eat lunch, so if you really wanna you can stand behind the dumpster and watch me smoke." He clocked out with a swift zing of his card and walked away without another word.

Alfred stared after him dumbly. After a minute in which he felt most of the restaurant was watching him, he paid for a humble McDouble and medium fry, filling himself a cherry coke. He wandered carefully through the back of the grease trap kitchens towards the swinging door that led out to the dumpster. Working at McDonalds had admittedly not been his first choice, but he'd started to get desperate. It was his senior year in high school and if he didn't get a little cash for next year, he'd be screwed.

The least he could do now was make this as small of a living hell as possible.

He found Arthur behind the dumpsters, surrounded in a cloud of cigarette smoke. The boy pretended not to see him so he sank to sit on the curb, balancing his food in his lap. The August weather was hotter than usual and he wondered how Arthur could stand all that smoke in his face. His pale skin was growing visibly shinier and his eyeliner looked wet beneath the shadow of his cap. Nonetheless, he breathed deeply and for the first time wasn't fidgety at all.

"Drink?" Alfred asked, holding up his cherry coke as sweat spots started to appear through Arthur's shirt. He wiped his face unceremoniously with the back of his hand, fixing Alfred with an appraising sneer.

"You can eat inside, where it's cool."

"Yeah, I know that." Alfred started to set down his coke, but Arthur took a quick step forward holding out his hand. Alfred worked to keep himself from smiling as he handed it over.

"Where do you go to school?" Arthur asked him, switching off between smoking and sipping.

"Francis Howell Central," Alfred took his hat off to fan himself. "I'm a senior. You?"

"St. Charles community college. My first year." He answered. "But I used to go to Francis Howell."

"Did you?" Alfred laughed. "So you can agree with me that it's a piece of shit."

Arthur's lips actually quirked. "I've never been so happy to leave a place in my entire life."

"God, don't I know it." Alfred muttered, kicking his shoe against the pavement. "What's the college like?"

"The same," Arthur rolled his eyes, smashing out his spent cigarette and reaching for another one. "A shitty piece of trash. Not even worth going to."

"Hmmm." Alfred examined his McDouble in silence. "What are you going for?" So many people have already asked him this question, he's beginning to hate it. What college did he want to go to? What job did he want? What major? But for some reason, he couldn't imagine what Arthur might want to do.

"I don't know," Arthur answered dismissively after a moment. "It's not like it really matters for a person like me."

Alfred looked up at him in astonishment as Arthur shoved the coke into his fingers.

"It's a wonder I even got into community college." Arthur added, trading his final cigarette for a handful of nicotine gum. "I'm a no-good fucker. But don't worry yourself kid, if you want to start a fight, you'll have to throw the first punch." He kicked Alfred's shoe as he headed back towards the door. "Chances are you won't be working here as long as I have."

0 0 0

"So how was your first day?" His mother asked him as soon as he walked through the door. Alfred took off his hat and only frowned at her wearily.

"Rough."

"No kidding," She pinched her nose. "Alfie, you stink." Her eyes narrowed. "Have you been smoking?"

"What? No, mom." Alfred groaned, pushing past her for the stairs. All he wanted was a long bath and a ten hour nap. "There's a guy at work who smokes a lot. I guess he rubbed off on me."

That was certainly one way of putting it. As Alfred sank into the bath, his thoughts were preoccupied with "that punk" Arthur. His manager didn't seem to know Arthur's real name and had resorted to calling him that. Whatever its faults, Arthur always answered to it. He just thought it was strange. Sure, Arthur had a rough look and a sharp tongue and maybe he seemed like he wasn't very nice. But he'd helped Alfred out when he was floundering, when everyone was ignoring him. And for what reason? Arthur couldn't be all bad.

He was turning Arthur's words over in his mind. Wondering. It was true that community college around here had a stigma. The only kids that attended there were the ones that couldn't get into anywhere else, in other words, the dregs, the losers. Arthur had seemed resigned to this idea more so than most. After all, Alfred had been considering the community college because it was affordable, to hell with other people's standards.

The next day he showed up to work after school, sporting a whirlwind hairstyle because he hadn't had time for a shower after gym class. Arthur was standing at the cash register, staring off into space, his fingernails clicking against the counter.

"Hey!" Alfred greeted him brightly. "When do you get off?"

Arthur blinked like he was coming out of a trance. He stared at Alfred blankly. "What do you want?" His words lacked yesterday's bite. They almost sounded dead.

Alfred would have teased him for being rude, but something about Arthur's slouched shoulders kept the remark at bay. "You look like you need a smoke," He commented perceptively because he knew it would get Arthur to keep talking to him. Truthfully, it looked like Arthur could use a goodnight's sleep.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." Arthur said, but nonetheless seemed to become more aware. "Have you been shown how to work the cash register?"

Alfred shook his head, smiling eagerly. "No, you wanna show me?"

Arthur's brows mashed together. "It's just the damn register. Soon you'll know how everything works and you'll see why they call the job soul-sucking."

"Maybe," Alfred agreed, not to be brought down from his good mood. "I don't really give a damn about the register, but I like talking to you, so." He shrugged, smiling.

Arthur's expression faltered into confusion, a lot like yesterday's. "It's no use sucking up to me," he said finally. "I'm the same minimum wage as you. It won't get you anywhere."

Alfred snorted. "If I was going to suck up to you, I'd do it a lot better than that."

Arthur's thick eyebrows disappeared into his hair. "Would you?"

Alfred grinned. "Yeah totally. I'd let you have my break, buy you a pack of cigarettes and a coke. Cover for you when the manager comes around. But if it floats your boat I'd tell you how much I like talking to you, too." Alfred shrugged. "I was just being honest."

Arthur didn't seem to know what to say, finally gesturing ineloquently towards the register. Each food item had a picture, so it didn't take long to figure out how to ring things up. It was three in the afternoon and relatively slow. Arthur watched over him as he took the few customers that meandered in.

"What classes are you in?" Arthur asked out of the blue, shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet uncomfortably. It was strange that he had asked, given that he had no problem standing in silence with the rest of the workers.

"Bio, Calc 2, Spanish, Economics, Gym, British Lit, and Chem," Alfred ticked them off on his fingers.

"Who do you have?" Arthur asked him after another couple minutes of silence. Keeping up the conversation seemed to be causing him a lot of pain, but he was trying for some reason.

"Uh, for Bio: Sanders. Calc: Johnson. Spanish: Gomez... Uh." Alfred trailed trying to remember his other classes.

"Who do you have for Lit?" Arthur asked. "Derrickson?"

Alfred grinned. "The D man. Yeah, he's my favorite. How could I forget. Did you have him?"

Arthur nodded, scratching his cheek and shifting. "Yeah, he wasn't as bad as the rest of them."

"What were your favorite classes?"Alfred asked, absently mopping down the counter with a rag.

Arthur snorted. "I couldn't tell you. I hardly ever went."

"Why?" Alfred asked blankly. "Didn't you care?" He realized his question was a bit intrusive, but he was curious for the answer.

Arthur scowled at him, picking at the chipping paint on his nails. "Not a bit. It's not like school has ever helped me in life."

"Hmmm." Alfred said, thinking about the kids in his grade that skipped classes often. Some of them were just being idiots, but some of them, the regular absentees... A girl had gotten pregnant this year, and there was a rumor that one of the boys' dads had been arrested for a drunken brawl. Another kid had gotten busted for marijuana, and when his mother came to pick him up she had laughed.

"But didn't it ever interest you?" He asked. "Everybody has some subject they like."

"Like I said," Arthur ground out, beginning to seem mad. "I couldn't tell you. I wasn't there enough to know."

"Well," Alfred frowned down at his hands. When he put it that way, it seemed like there was something keeping him from being there besides his own rebel constitution. "I'm sorry about that."

"About what?" Arthur snapped challengingly. His green eyes had grown harder over the course of the conversation, and now they were impenetrable as granite. His stance had shifted too, becoming tighter and more aggressive. Alfred realized that this was a sensitive topic. He searched for a way to diffuse the situation.

"Well, you're not stupid," Alfred muttered, shrugging. "It shouldn't have been so hard for you. Life fucks some people."

Arthur's teeth ground together and he suddenly stalked towards the kitchen door. "You don't what you're talking about."

Alfred watched him go, frowning. The next time he saw Arthur was in street clothes, carrying a tattered bag with a hole in the bottom. Apparently, he was off work. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips as he weaved his way through workers towards the front entrance. He looked scary.

Perhaps Alfred hadn't realized it when Arthur was dressed in the McDonalds uniform before, but this was the type of kid he had actively avoided in high school for four years. He wore a black hoodie with what looked like an occult band symbol splashed across the front. His jeans were holey enough and tight enough to almost be considered nonexistent. Numerous chains jingled at his knees. His boots were black except for a streak of red spray paint across the toes.

He expected Arthur to still be angry about their previous conversation, so it surprised him when Arthur stopped beside him. Correcting a customer's order with nimble fingers on the register. Alfred gave him a relieved smile. He'd been about to call over the manager. His heart stutter-stepped strangely when Arthur looked embarrassed for the gratitude.

The moment didn't last.

"I know they hire any old riffraff at this godforsaken establishment, but I didn't know they let fucking delinquents walk around and just play with the registers. Mind if I come around the counter and have a look myself?" The middle-aged man crossed his arms, giving Arthur a dirty look.

Alfred saw Arthur crush the end of the cigarette between his teeth. His eye twitched, and just like that, Alfred understood that Arthur could be dangerous.

"Listen, you asshole," Arthur lowered his voice so that only the two of them heard. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. I haven't got the time to deal with ignorant shitheads and their opinions, today." He leaned back just as suddenly and Alfred saw him deftly tap the register screen, messing up the order again.

Instead of storming away though, he looked oddly at Alfred. "G-goodbye, Alfred." He stumbled over the words a little, his green eyes uncertain.

Alfred grinned. "See you later Arthur!"

"Hold up. I'm not finished with you!" The man raised his voice. The other customers were beginning to get antsy and Alfred feared the manager would materialize any minute. "Do you even work here?"

Arthur threw his ruined cigarette in the trash, shoving through people towards the door. He was pretending he couldn't hear.

The man rounded on Alfred. "You're the reason America's going to hell these days."

"Me?" Alfred asked numbly.

"Such displays of blatant homosexuality and thievery, you'd think we'd descended into the viking era. Next, you'll be raping our children!"

Alfred's eyes bulged. He opened his mouth to call for the manager, because things were quickly descending into places that he didn't want to travel. Homosexuality? What the hell was he even talking about? Arthur? Him and Arthur? Thievery? Arthur wasn't stealing anything.

"Hey, leave him alone!" Arthur's angry voice cut through the crowd like a knife. They parted for him out of fear, and Alfred took one look at him and agreed. They should be afraid. Arthur's hands were curled into tight fists at his sides. He wasn't very tall up against their middle aged accuser, but he had a face that could make children cry.

"Arthur!" Alfred tried to stop him when he realized what was about to happen. Arthur didn't hear him or couldn't hear him. He grabbed the man by the collar of his polo and held him taut.

"I've had enough of you," Arthur snapped. "I've had enough of people like you with your stupid agendas. Go on attack me! But leave Alfred out of it. He's your golden boy, and you'll be sorry if you crush him now. He's all the hope this godforsaken country's got. So fuck off!" Arthur shoved the man, hard.

The guy stumbled backwards, knocking over people until he fell against one of the tabletops. Someone shouted to call the cops. Everyone backed away from Arthur when he advanced though. Alfred's eyes grew wide when he realized Arthur planned to finish the job.

"Hey, hey, hey," He said over and over again, jumping over the counter. He grabbed Arthur by the shoulders. "I'm okay, Arthur. He's just a dickhead. It's not worth it. Hey, are you listening?" Alfred tugged Arthur to a halt by sheer brute force. He didn't seem to notice Alfred at all. His eyes were locked unerringly on the man, who had stayed on the floor. Prudently, in Alfred's opinion.

"Arthur, Arthur," He repeated his name, until a semblance of recognition crossed Arthur's face.

Arthur shoved at him angrily. "Fuck off. Let me go."

"No," Alfred said calmly, still holding Arthur by the shoulders. "You need to calm down. He said some stupidass things, but they're only words. It's-

"Let. Go. Of. Me." Arthur's voice was livid and Alfred actually felt a shiver of something run down his spine. He wasn't in control of himself right now. Outside Alfred could hear the whirr of police sirens, and his heart beat faster.

"I can't do that, Arthur. You need to calm down. Now."

Abruptly, Arthur lost patience with him and began to struggle against his grip.

"It's not worth it!" Alfred shouted. "For god's sake you're not an idiot!"

"Get the fuck off of me!" Arthur struggled viciously, scratching and clawing. Alfred had to grab him around the waist to keep his hold. It happened suddenly. The only warning he got was a shriek from a lady two tables down. He looked up at Arthur and Arthur's fist connected with his face.

The blow shocked him. He stopped moving, but he didn't let go. The world spun around him in a blur of colors and sound. He heard a shout of "Somebody stop him!" Before another blow connected with his head, and suddenly he wasn't holding onto anything. The room went dark.

0 0 0

"Alfred, Alfred sweetie, can you hear me?"

Alfred woke with a bang of pain that lanced from the top of his head all the way down to his collar bone. He blinked away the haze in a brightly lit room. His mother and brother stood above him, frowning worriedly.

"Oh, he's alive," Matthew pronounced, rolling his eyes.

"Are you okay, Alfred? The doctors think you'll have a nasty concussion, but everything else checks out alright."

Alfred scowled, rubbing his eyes. "What... what happened?"

"A guy beat the shit out of you at work," Matthew said, looking interested. "The police say he was going for another guy but you held him back. How's it feel to be the hero?" The question was asked somewhat ironically and Matthew smirked as he said it.

Alfred groaned, reaching up to tentatively feel the top of his head. "It feels awful. That's what it feels like."

"I knew working at that restaurant was a bad idea," his mom chimed in. "There has to be another job you can get, Alfred. I don't want you around people like that. I'm just thankful you're okay."

"Arthur was provoked, ma." Alfred muttered, trying to sort through his muddled thoughts. Apparently, Arthur had quite the anger problem. "Where is he?"

Matthew and his mom exchanged looks.

"Well, Al, the police came in right after you'd been punched out." Matthew said. "And they arrested him. He's probably down at the station."

"What?" Alfred sat up right. "But ma, we're not pressing charges." He scowled and said more insistently. "We're not."

"Alfred..." She stared at him. "He assaulted you. The police are expecting your testimony."

"I'm not!" Alfred shouted angrily. "He wasn't in his right mind. He was provoked."

"That's still assault," Matthew chimed in and shrugged. "But it doesn't even matter if you want to press charges or not. The police have him, and that other guy sure looked like he couldn't wait to press charges."

Alfred's face paled, carefully he pushed his brother out of the way. He swung his feet out of the bed and his mother began to immediately squawk at him. The room spun with such force that he nearly threw up, but he needed to get down to the police station.

"Listen," he said through gritted teeth. "You can take me down to the police station right now, or I'll walk there myself. Don't doubt my tenacity."

Matthew and his mom exchanged glances, knowing very well what Alfred could be like when he was being stubborn.

When they got there, his mother insisted on holding his hand. He was too wiped to complain about it. Damn, his head hurt. Arthur had really decked him, the giant turd. Alfred grinned tiredly to himself. She ended up doing most of the talking, explaining what Alfred was there for. He was having trouble seeing now. The room's fluorescent lighting made him feel like he was walking on the sun.

"I want to see Arthur," he interrupted their conversation. "I'll give my testimony if you let me see Arthur."

The officer appeared to be looking at him. He couldn't tell. "Alright," he said after a moment. "This way."

Alfred went without his family this time, following the officer into the basement of the station. As soon as they got there, he was able to open his eyes a little bit more. The painful lighting had been replaced by the soft glow of strange lamps attached to concrete walls. Several empty barred cells lined either side of them. The officer led him down the middle.

Even though his head was spinning, he was able to spot Arthur down at the end. The chains had been removed from his jeans, and he wasn't wearing any shoes. He sat on the small pull out cot with his head on his knees, his arms thrown over his head. Like he was bracing himself for some kind of catastrophe.

Alfred's heart beat faster, a strange blurry tint eclipsing his vision. Life really wasn't fair sometimes.

"Kirkland, you've got fifteen minutes with him." The officer rattled the bars like you would rattle a zoo animal's cage. Arthur didn't even look up. The officer inserted the key and opened the door for Alfred. He entered, using the bars to steady himself, and then the officer locked them in.

"Arthur?" Alfred finally found his voice. He didn't trust himself not to fall over. "You alright?"

Arthur flinched, looking up in shock. "What are you doing here?" He sounded like he had swallowed a handful of gravel. His eyes were rimmed in red and his makeup was smeared horribly. He looked like a raccoon with a head cold.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," Alfred said sincerely. His brows furrowed worriedly. "You don't look okay."

"Well, I fucking decked you in the face. You don't see anything un-okay with that?" Arthur snarled loudly, but his voice went up at the end verging on hysteria.

"Yeah," Alfred agreed quietly. "You didn't seem in control back there."

"I wasn't." Arthur muttered bitterly, looking away. "All I could think was that... you were holding me back. I didn't think anything else."

"I figured." Alfred grinned, stumbling forward to sit beside him. "I mean if you really wanted to knock me out, you should have done it the other day at the drive through. You could have dumped me out the window. No one would have been the wiser."

Arthur dropped his face in his hands with a groan. "There's something wrong with you."

"I know," Alfred nodded seriously. "I'm why America's going to hell. Hide your kids. Hide your wives. Alfred F. Jones is on the scene."

"Fucking shut up, would you?" Arthur grumbled, glancing up at him uncertainly. "What is wrong with you?"

"Well, right now, I've got a teensy concussion, so you'll have to excuse me."

"I..." Arthur swallowed heavily, fixing his eyes on the ground. "I am sorry. After I did it, everyone was shouting. I realized what happened." His hands clenched into fists. "I tried to run away."

"Well, that didn't work out for ya, did it?" Alfred chuckled, nudging Arthur who stared at him. "What? Come on. I saw that look in your eyes. You didn't even know who I was when you punched me. You just need some help reigning in that temper of yours. You're not an awful person."

"That's what's wrong with you." Arthur said as if just realizing it. "You don't see what everyone else sees."

Alfred snorted. "What's wrong? How about what's right? That jackass said a lot of stupid things about you, but I'll say a few more. You're not an idiot. You're not an awful person. And frankly Arthur, if you don't want to, you won't work at McDonalds for the rest of your life. I know a fighter when I see one."

Arthur's mouth opened and closed like he well and truly didn't know what to say to that.

"Look," Alfred said, reaching into his pocket to pull out a piece of paper and a pen. "I'm not pressing charges. I'm sure jackass McGee will. From what I remember, assault is a misdemeanor with a maximum six months jail time and a maximum six months probation. You literally gave the guy a little push. Gravity did the rest. It wasn't premeditated. It wasn't overly violent. With a decent attorney, I could see you easily getting off with only probation and a fine of maybe 300 dollars. This isn't the end of the world."

Arthur blinked as Alfred handed the paper over with a number scrawled on it. "This is my cell number. Text me when your court date is or if you have any questions about the legal system. I can Google them." He smiled then. "No worries."

Arthur stared at him, blinking rapidly, and then looked away. "Why are... why are you doing this for me?"

Alfred hesitated, before reaching out and laying his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "You helped me out when I needed it. I guess... I know you're not who you pretend to be."

* * *

 **Any reviews, faves and follows much appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Here is the second chapter. I am planning on making this an actual story. I've already worked on it quite a lot, haha. Although, most of the chapters I have so far are absolute crap *cries eternally*. So I'll be editing those up for ya!**

 **Any reviews, follows, and faves are much appreciated! I read all of the reviews and they always make me so happy! Thank you for all your support!**

 **I will try to update this weekly (around this time next week).**

 **Enjoy,**

 **doze**

* * *

Alfred's mother was not happy. "We're not going to his trial."

"Uh, you don't have to go," Alfred said rudely, knowing it wouldn't help his case. He knew how to drive though, and to hell if she would keep him from being there. He had promised.

"Why do you want to go, Alfred? He doesn't even work there anymore! You don't have to worry about him."

Alfred flinched at the reminder. It was true that Arthur was no longer employed at McDonalds. Turned out he wouldn't be there for the rest of his life. All the same, just when he'd started to have a work buddy things had fallen to shit. Now, he was employed at the hellhole all by himself, and not a day went by that he didn't wish Arthur were there to suffer with him.

Arthur had been released for about two weeks until the court date. They hadn't met up in all that time. But Alfred's phone was stocked with their chats. After Arthur had told him about being fired from McDonalds, he'd made sure to text Arthur whenever he saw a decent job posting in town. Ultimately it had turned into a bit of a joke. He texted Arthur job postings for sewage control and taxi drivers, and Arthur in turn sent him multiple angles of his middle finger.

Nonetheless, Arthur had unwittingly become his chat buddy, and he found himself sitting in class with his phone out under the desk more and more often. This trial was the first time he'd be seeing Arthur in two weeks, and no matter how macho Arthur acted over the phone Alfred knew he was afraid.

"Yeah, well, I promised him I'd be there." Alfred said flatly. "And you raised me to keep my promises. I'm going."

Ultimately, she let him go. Even printed out a set of Mapquest directions. He got in his car alone in one of his only collared shirts. When he reached the courthouse, he was early. He took a seat in one of the benches near the front, scanning the small group of people. There was that bastard that had started the fight in the first place on the stand with his lawyer. A prudish woman and a couple of bored children sat on either side of him. Alfred recognized some of the people from the restaurant that day in the crowd. His manager was sitting a couple rows behind him.

Finally, the defense attorney entered, tailed by Arthur. Arthur was wearing a too large suit that didn't seem to be his own. His tie was done wrong, and his hair was wild enough to look like he had just rolled out of bed. There was a wad of something in his cheek that Alfred would bet was nicotine gum. When Arthur caught his eye, Alfred saw his shoulders loosen a little.

Alfred smiled at him, and was pleased to see Arthur give him a brief nod.

The trial was dull and boring. Alfred felt the accusations of the plaintiff were a little over the top, and the defense attorney made use of that. Ultimately, it was nearly as he'd called it. Arthur was given four months of probation and a $400 fine. He saw Arthur's shoulders sag in relief and even heard him give a thank you to the attorney.

Alfred stood eagerly to catch Arthur by the elbow as everyone filed out. "What are you wearing?" he teased. "It looks like you picked it up at an obese menswear store or something."

Arthur snorted in amusement falling into step beside him. "It's my father's."

Alfred's eyes grew huge and he quickly tried to backtrack. "Oh, I'm sorry, Arthur. I shouldn't have-

But Arthur's laughter, his real, genuine laughter, interrupted him. "It's okay, Alfred," he said. "My father's a shithead." His expression grew a little more somber. "A shithead that won't be helping me at all with this fine."

Alfred swallowed, uncertain what to say. 400 dollars was a hefty amount on a McDonalds salary, and Arthur didn't even have a job. They came to an awkward halt in the lobby, glancing at each other. It hadn't occurred to Alfred that the discussions came easier over text.

"I've got to get my clothes from the office," Arthur waved behind in the direction of the stairs.

"I'll wait for you." Alfred rubbed at his reddening cheeks. This victory was cause for some celebration. He hoped Arthur would want to spend a bit of time together.

When Arthur came back, he was wearing the same occult band hoodie as before with gray skinny jeans. He had taken the time to put on some eyeliner. Overall, he looked back to his prickly and terrifying self, like the courtroom image had only been a trick.

"Okay, so you're going to have to tell me," Alfred began, gathering his courage. "Death metal? Really?" He tugged at Arthur's sleeve teasingly.

Arthur glanced down at the logo with a shrug. "I've never actually heard them before. I just liked the shirt."

"Oh, so you're a poser!" Alfred proclaimed with a laugh.

"Do I look like the type of person you want to say that to?" Arthur grumbled in a low voice, kicking his battered boot across the ground. "Come on. Let's go outside. I need a smoke."

They walked a ways down the sidewalk and sat on the curb together. It took Arthur only a matter of seconds to light one. His fingers performed the action without him having to think about it at all. Alfred watched as the strange magic took its effect . Every muscle in Arthur's body melted.

"So..." Alfred trailed. "Do you have a ride?"

"No," Arthur snorted. "My mother drove me, but I doubt father will let her have the car again to come pick me up."

"You live with your parents?" Alfred asked.

"No." Arthur's expression grew darker. "I have an apartment near campus. But I can't drive."

Alfred's eyes widened. "You can't drive?" He exclaimed. He immediately regretted it. It was like he could see Arthur's walls come shooting up.

"I'm sure your daddy sat you down and explained how the gear shift works, didn't he?" Arthur sneered through a haze of smoke.

Alfred sighed. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I was just surprised. Did your mom drive you to work too?"

Arthur snorted, "No, I walked."

Alfred frowned at his hands, staring off across the nearly deserted parking lot. "You wanna go somewhere?" He offered. "I've got my car. We could go anywhere you wanted. Mom isn't expecting me till after midnight."

Arthur cocked his head to the side. "You want to go somewhere with me?"

"Uh, yeah duh." Alfred wrinkled his nose teasingly. "That's why I suggested it. This calls for some celebration anyway. You're not going to jail."

"Huzzah," Arthur said flatly, and Alfred had to laugh because he said it with such a straight face.

"Come on," he offered his hand. Arthur ignored it, stubbing out his cigarette and flicking it into a bush. He reached for another one, lighting it without looking.

"Where's your car?"

"The tan Civic, over there."

"As long as you'll give me a ride back to my apartment, I don't care where we go." Arthur said, sounding suddenly exhausted. Alfred frowned, bending down and grabbing him by one of his wrists. He towed Arthur to his feet, a grumbling, scowling delinquent mess.

As he looked at his friend's (and he would say Arthur was his friend) face, his heart stuttered strangely. It became almost impossible not to smile at him when he scowled like that.

"There's something wrong with you," Arthur said again as Alfred tugged him in the direction of the Civic.

"No smoking. House rules." Alfred said as he started the engine. Arthur delivered him a truly nasty black look, like all the other ones had been child's play.

"I'll walk."

But Alfred rolled his eyes. "Empty threat. I'm calling it. Just chew some of your gum or something. What's the difference?"

"Gum doesn't work anymore," Arthur muttered. "I'll open a window?" He added hopefully.

Alfred sighed. "You better be like more than halfway out of it."

Arthur nodded quickly. Alfred almost felt he would have agreed to sitting on top of the car if it let him keep smoking.

"How many do you smoke a day?" He asked conversationally, trying to keep any accusation out of his tone. In school, they all but slammed it down your throat that smoking was unhealthy. It hadn't taken very long of knowing Arthur to see that he was hopelessly addicted.

"Depends on if I'm working or not," Arthur answered, watching him carefully.

Alfred shrugged, turning onto the main road. "I was just wondering."

His offhand tone seemed to encourage Arthur, who continued. "Probably three or four packs. I like Marlboros. Red." He pulled a box out of his pocket to show Alfred. "They've got more kick than the Blacks. Although my favorites are a bit harder to find. More expensive." He actually gave a guilty smile. "My older brother got me a pack of Lucky Strike a couple years ago, but they're hard to find. American Spirit's alright too."

"Huh," Alfred said, thinking fast to come with another question now that Arthur was in a talkative mood. "When did you start smoking?"

"When I was eight," Arthur said, frowning. "I think. I just remember seeing my father do it. He left one on his armchair once and I took it to my room and tried it. My brothers smoked too."

Eight? Alfred's mind reeled a little bit from this information, but he was careful to keep his face neutral. He could tell that Arthur was watching him.

"Must be hard to make it through eight hour shifts then," He murmured as Arthur flicked a spent cigarette out the window, taking his time with another one. He was so efficient about it. He'd made it an art.

"You have no idea," Arthur grumbled, leaning back comfortably against the Civic's leather seat. The whole car was going to smell like smoke, and his mother was going to kill him.

"So where are we headed?" he asked.

"Oh, right," Arthur looked up at the ceiling. "Take me to the supermarket."

Alfred blinked. "The grocery store? Why?"

"I just remembered I don't have any food."

"Oh." Alfred cleared his throat. When he had suggested they spend time together, he'd been thinking the mall or somewhere normal that people usually hung out.

"Is that a problem?" Arthur asked him challengingly, looking like he was ready to pick a fight over it.

"No, no. It's near here anyway." They pulled into the parking lot not too many minutes later. Alfred had to wait outside the door while Arthur finished his last cigarette, looking regretful as he stubbed it out.

"Hey, just so you know," Alfred shifted, suddenly embarrassed. "If you ever need a ride anywhere, I've got my own car. I don't mind taking you somewhere."

Arthur blinked. "Okay," was all he said.

The air condition blasted a pleasant breeze across them as they stepped inside. Alfred couldn't help being distracted by the bakery items. He filled a bag with some discount stale donuts and then went to find Arthur somewhat unsurprisingly in the booze section. As Arthur dumped two six packs of Heineken in his cart, Alfred blinked.

"Wait. How old are you?"

Arthur's eyes widened a little bit, and to Alfred's surprise his face flushed red. "Don't worry about it," He snarled shoving past roughly and nearly knocking Alfred into the bottles.

"Hey, hey," Alfred jogged to catch up, lowering his voice. "It's fine if you have a fake ID. I just don't want to get in trouble."

"I don't have a fake ID," Arthur said testily, grabbing apparently random generic items off the shelves. He raided the frozen food section quite heavily. His face was still an ugly red color and he refused to meet Alfred's eyes.

Alfred frowned. "Aren't you only a year older than me? I'm eighteen." Arthur threw a bag of chips into his cart quite viciously. Glancing down Alfred thought he had absolutely nothing healthy. Everything was fried, frozen, or processed. His mom would have died if he showed up with groceries like that. (Not that he didn't prefer them most of the time...)

"Arthur?" he prompted incredulously.

"No, Alfred I'm not a year older than you." Arthur closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose as they joined a long checkout line. "Congratulations, Sherlock. Don't push me. Please."

Alfred noticed his hands were turning white against the handles of the shopping cart. Arthur was really easy to work up, especially without his cigarettes.

"Alright," Alfred complied.

Arthur said nothing else until they got to the cashier. He flashed his ID quickly, purchasing five packs of cigarettes as well. When they got to the car, Alfred helped him load his groceries.

As he followed Arthur's directions to the apartment, he considered. Arthur had to at least be twenty-one then. He didn't see what was so embarrassing about that. It was the only explanation for why his face turned so red, but it didn't make any sense.

Arthur had forgotten to open the window, and the smoke hung around them in a haze. He wanted to ask if Arthur was alright, but felt like it wouldn't be a welcome conversation topic. He seemed to be struggling. He'd completely emptied his wallet of cash at the register, even resorting to counting out the pennies. Alfred hadn't seen any credit cards in there. Would he be able to come up with the $400 for the fine?

When they arrived, Alfred could tell instantly that this was an unsafe side of town. He helped Arthur carry the groceries up the rickety apartment stairs, nearly falling through a hole in one of them. Arthur held the cigarette in his mouth while he searched for his key. Down below them two dogs yowled at each other aggressively. A small knot of people were exchanging backpacks on the grassless lawn.

Inside, the apartment was barely furnished and smelled nauseatingly of smoke. A couch that looked like it came from Goodwill sagged by a boxy TV. A folding table by the small kitchenette housed an enormous stack of paper plates and plastic silverware. All manner of discarded cigarette packs and beer bottles littered the counters, and there were mysterious stains every few feet on the carpet.

"Sorry," Arthur grunted, and Alfred felt bad for staring. As Arthur set his groceries on the counter, Alfred could see the back of his neck was red.

"Do you mind if I order in pizza?" Alfred gathered his courage again. As he said it, he nonchalantly walked over to close the balcony sliding door. It didn't do much to muffle the dogs, but at least they could pretend they weren't witnessing the drug deal going on down below. "I wanna hang out for a little while before I go."

"Why?" Arthur fixed him with a flat gaze, using the side of the countertop to open himself a beer. The cap clattered loudly onto the linoleum floor and Arthur squashed it with his boot. The length of the day settled heavily around them. Suddenly, Alfred realized that though Arthur had gotten away with no jail time, nothing had really changed for him at all.

His heart burned strangely again, as it had been doing on and off all day. The only explanation for it was that he didn't like seeing Arthur depressed.

"I want to hang out," He said lamely, walking around the island to stand in front of him. "I want to celebrate with you. You've lived to fight another day, Tonto."

Arthur snorted. "Lone Ranger, really?"

Alfred grinned. "Come on. I'm sure we could find something on TV. I promise I won't be too annoying. I'll even let you pick the pizza topping."

Arthur didn't say anything for a long time. Just watched him. There was a slight crease between his brows like he was thinking very hard. Trying to puzzle him out.

"Sold," Arthur abruptly gave up. "Pepperoni."

"Ah, you're so boring." Alfred bumped Arthur's shoulder purposefully as he came to stand next to him.

"It's a classic," Arthur said. "What would you have?"

"Pepperoni probably."

"Hypocrite."

"Why thank you," Alfred bowed mockingly, dialing the number.

After their pizza arrived they sprawled on the floor in front of the couch. Arthur seemed to have no qualms whatsoever with Alfred drinking one of his beers. For once, he stopped smoking. Though Alfred supposed it would be difficult or at least unsavory to smoke and eat at the same time. Maybe Arthur should eat more.

Arthur only got a limited number of channels and he had to keep going over there to adjust the antennas. Rather than annoying, Alfred found it comical, snickering into his hand. The next time their station went to fuzz, Arthur thwacked him on the head with a paper plate and told him to fix it.

Between the two of them, they cleared out the whole pizza almost evenly. He'd been surprised by Arthur's appetite and found himself wondering whether Arthur had eaten anything else all day. Now he was lazily smoking and Alfred was watching him blow larger and smaller rings with his eyes half closed.

Noticing that Alfred was watching, Arthur began to show off. He took a large inhale and seemed to hold it in his mouth before sending out three consecutive rings and shooting a ball of smoke right through them. Then he snorted smoke out through his nose in strange and surprisingly controlled tendrils, taking it back into his mouth. He returned to blowing rings, but this time he would wave his hand quickly after them causing them to turn globular and look more like jellyfish. At one point he had at least four of them floating around together. He blew one ring sucked it back in, then pushed it back out into two rings.

Alfred snickered boyishly, gasping a little when he inhaled all of Arthur's work. "Sorry."

Arthur shook his head, his expression relaxed. He shifted onto his side, scrunching his black sock feet against the toes of Alfred's Nikes. "Wanna do something cool?"

Alfred raised his eyebrows. "I'm always up for something cool."

"Breathe in when I nod my head." Arthur proceeded to blow out his three rings again, rocketing the smoke ball through them with ease. When he nodded, Alfred inhaled the lot in a sudden spiral like tornado. Alfred laughed, coughing a bit.

"Where did you learn how to do all this stuff?" He asked, surprised when Arthur's cheeks turned red and he fiddled with his hoodie sleeves.

"I've just had a lot of practice," He said.

"Well, it's impressive you can do that with only cigarette smoke," Alfred shook his head.

Arthur shrugged. "That's the challenge. I have a lot of free time when I'm out of a job." He flinched after he said it, like he hadn't meant to admit that much.

"You out of a job pretty often then?" Alfred asked, his voice soft. He didn't expect Arthur to answer. Arthur's eyes flittered up to meet his, before quickly skittering away. He stubbed out his cigarette in a clay bowl. Realizing that his pack was done, he shuffled to his feet to find a new one. Alfred leaned his head back against the couch cushion. It was suddenly starting to make a lot of sense why Arthur was depressed.

When Arthur sat back down again, Alfred got the distinct feeling that he was sitting closer than last time. He didn't immediately light his cigarette, turning it around in his fingers. "It's almost midnight," he murmured. "You should get back."

"Yeah," Alfred agreed, but didn't move. "Anything I can do?"

Arthur blinked, easing the cigarette into his mouth slowly. "For what?"

"Just anything I can do." Alfred smiled.

"No," Arthur said, laying his cheek against the cushion so that their noses were about two inches apart. "You're... you're already doing a lot."

Alfred chuckled. "I don't think you know what a lot means, Arthur. But if you say so." With a grunt, he thrust himself to his feet. "Remember, if you ever need a ride, shoot me a text."

"A-actually," Arthur's hesitant voice stopped him at the door. "I have a counseling appointment tomorrow for my probation. It's pretty far away from here. If you didn't mind-

"Of course," Alfred grinned warmly. "When is it?"

"Around 4:15. I can meet you at Francis Howell."

"It's a deal then," Alfred beamed. "Night, Arthur."

Arthur opened his mouth to say it back, but it stuck in his throat. He inhaled from his cigarette instead.

0 0 0

The next day Alfred was already looking forward to driving Arthur. It was nearly a forty-five minute drive which would give them plenty of time to talk and get cancer. All day long, his friends told him he smelled like a smokestack. No matter what he did he couldn't get rid of the smell. The intensive shower, the new clothes, the triple shampooing. Gilbert still slapped him on the back and said that they were going to have an intermission.

Too worn out to object, Alfred laughed along with them. Fine, he would be their smoker friend for a day. By the end of seventh period, he was tired of the Chemistry lab, nearly falling asleep as he performed it. Matthew kept nudging him to keep him awake. His lab partner Kiku was doing all the work again, and he did hate to dump everything on him.

"What can I do, Kiku?" He asked through a yawn.

"Nothing, now," The Japanese boy gave him an amused look. "We're waiting for the reaction to happen."

"Nothing's happening."

"Yes, that was our hypothesis."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "What would I do without you, Kiku? I never would have guessed."

"It does seem nonsensical to go through all this," Kiku waved at the test tubes, "for this."

"Well's it's better than getting this!" Gilbert chimed in suddenly, waving around a vial of the nastiest smelling substance Alfred had ever encountered. "Hey, it kinda smells like you, Alfred."

"Shut up," Alfred rolled his eyes, while Kiku looked at Gilbert curiously.

"Alfred's a chain smoker now," Gilbert snickered. "Careful. It's a sensitive topic."

"Yeah," Alfred forced a chuckle. "You better shut your mouth or I'll deck you, Gil."

"He even smokes 'em in the shower," Gilbert confided with a snort of laughter. "And he can't sleep at night unless he's had his two packs over dinner."

"Haha, alright, Gil, that's enough," Alfred turned back to his lab book with finality, but Gilbert wasn't finished.

"Paging Alfred Jones. There are two smoking sections on this flight. One to the left wing exit and one to the right wing exit."

"Alright, Gil. I get it. Very funny."

"Hey, Alfred, Alfred, nicotine patches are great. Stick one over each eye and you can't find your cigarettes!"

"Gilbert-san," muttered Kiku, falling back into his Japanese without thinking.

"It's okay though, Al! Don't get discouraged," Gilbert waved his hands majestically in the air. The whole class was watching his performance. "Thousands of Americans stop smoking every year. By dying."

"Shut up!" Alfred lost his temper. His head was still pounding. It'd been pounding all day because of the lameass concussion, and he was tired of taking this shit! "Shut up, you fucking numbskull!" He grabbed Gilbert by the collar of his shirt, knocking and breaking several empty beakers on the floor. "I told you it wasn't funny! It's not g-goddamn funny." He realized to his horror that he was starting to get emotional about it.

He shoved Gilbert away from him. Without really meaning to, he met Matthew's eyes. The strange violet of them was filled with concern. Alfred swallowed the lump in his throat determinedly.

"I trust you can resolve this outside of class, Mr. Beilschmidt, Mr. Jones?" Even the lab instructor was staring at him strangely. Alfred nodded tiredly, meeting Gilbert's eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what... I'm sorry."

"It was just a joke," Gilbert muttered. "Didn't realize you were so sensitive."

When the bell finally rang, Alfred was out of there faster than he'd ever been. At his locker, he shoved books into his bag angrily, wanting to escape before they converged on him. But it was too late. Matthew showed first, his mouth tilted downwards in a frown.

"What's up, Alfred? Gil's jokes were kinda sucky, but it's not like you to take them seriously."

Alfred scowled. "I don't want to talk about this, Matt."

Kiku appeared at his other side. "It wasn't very nice of him, Alfred. He was obviously bothering you."

"Yeah well, he said it anyway. Just like he always does." Alfred shouldered his backpack, jumping when he came face to face with Feli.

"You can have some of my debbie cake if you want, Al." He offered it up and Alfred couldn't snap at him if the world depended on it.

"Thanks guys. Really, I'm fine. He just got to me. This concussion's wore my patience a little thin." As it was, he was getting more and more impatient to get out of this building. The thought of sitting in a smoky car for forty five minutes was strangely exhilarating. His friends hurried to keep up at his sides, thinking him still upset.

"I told you for the last time I'm fi-" But the words died in his mouth when he saw Arthur leaning against the flagpole with a cigarette in his hand. His heart did that strange stutter step thing, and he began to suspect that no, he was not fine. "I'll... catch up with you guys later," he waved them away.

Matthew followed his line of sight. His eyes grew wide. "Alfred," he hissed. "What is he doing here?"

"I'm giving him a ride. Won't be home till late. Tell mom."

His twin wasn't letting him off that easy. He grabbed Alfred's arm to keep him from walking away. "Alfred, I don't know about this."

"You don't have to," Alfred tore his eyes away from Arthur, scowling. "It's none of your business."

"But Alfred... he's obviously not..." Matthew didn't finish the sentence as they both looked over at him again. All the students were giving him a wide berth. Despite it being August and hot, Arthur was wearing another black hoodie, this one with an amazing print of a girl tearing off one side of her face, blood and muscle oozing downwards. Her eyes were slitted like a snakes. Alfred honestly thought it was pretty impressive artwork. His usual skinny jeans were there and a host of chains that banged against his knees because of the wind. His black nails and eyeliner and numerous piercings.

Alfred's vision seemed to flicker between two images. One moment, he was seeing Arthur almost smiling on his living room floor, smoke coming out of his nostrils, full to bursting with pepperoni pizza. And the next moment, he was seeing this tough projection that made even the teachers think twice about approaching him.

"I won't get burned," Alfred murmured almost absently and Matthew stared at him. "Come meet him." Alfred said, grabbing his brother's hand and towing him towards the apparent prince of demons.

"Hey Arthur," he called and his heart soared when he saw Arthur noticeably perk up. "Isn't it a little hot for child sacrifice?" He came up to pluck the image on Arthur's hoodie teasingly. For some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to be scared of Arthur. Arthur didn't notice Matthew at first, giving Alfred a roll of his eyes.

"Her face is melting off from the heat obviously. It's fucking August for god's sake."

"We're basically living in Death Valley," Alfred agreed, taking a step back and gesturing toward Matthew. "I wanted to let you know that I had a twin that way you can at least have a fighting chance when we switch places and go all Shining on your ass."

"You have a twin?" Arthur was obviously surprised.

"More like a less awesome clone, but that works too."

"Hi, I'm Matthew," Matthew held out his hand nervously.

Arthur looked just as nervous as he shook it. "Arthur."

"Great introductions done. We better get going. Come on, Arthur." Without further ado, he left Matthew standing on the sidewalk staring after them. Although it wasn't much Alfred hoped it was enough for Matthew to recognize Arthur as a person.

"What was that about?" Arthur asked him when they reached the car. He was still puffing nervously on his cigarette, glancing back to where Matthew was standing.

"I wanted you to meet him. Like I said, now we can go all Shining on your ass."

"Shut up. You're hopeless." Arthur rolled his eyes, sinking into the Civic. This time he cracked the window without having to be asked. As he settled back in his seat, Alfred heard his stomach growl.

"Hungry?"

"I was hoping you hadn't heard that."

"Why? Because I'm going to force you to eat?"

"You're developing a pattern."

Alfred grinned. "Shut up. You're hopeless."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys!**

 **Sorry this chapter isn't anything special, but I wanted to get something up. Leave a review if you've got the time! Seeing you guys' comments always makes my day.**

 **much love, doze**

* * *

Alfred balanced his burrito against the steering wheel as he shot down highway 70. They were surrounded in a flood of Taco Bell wrappers. Alfred had bought so many things he'd lost track, but the glorious inexpensive Mexican was worth it. Arthur had complained that Alfred was paying for their food again. When Alfred told him he could be repaid if Arthur wouldn't smoke the trip over, he had shut up about it.

At least four burrito supremes later, Arthur was in a blissful food coma. Alfred had put out his cigarette for him to keep from having any explosions.

Now, all he had was Arthur's slow breathing for company. He had thought about waking him, but Arthur could use the sleep. His eyes had horrible bags highlighted further by the unforgiving black of his liner. If he wore it to conceal them, it certainly wasn't working. Even sleeping, he looked exhausted. Like he had crawled into this Civic after hiking around the world.

Once they reached the counseling facility, Alfred hesitated to wake him up. He was out solid. He'd probably sleep for hours if Alfred let him.

"Hey, Arthur, we're here."

Arthur blinked groggily, giving a half-snore. "What?"

"We're here. At the counselor's." Alfred grinned. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Wouldn't want to miss your appointment."

"I... goddamn it!" Arthur sat up, yawning. "Did I really sleep the whole time?"

"Must have been the burritos."

"Yeah, it must have been! Your goddamn stupid idea."

Alfred only shook his head. "Do you need a ride back home?"

Arthur's eyes widened and he actually reddened in embarrassment. "I hadn't... You don't have to wait for me. I can find a bus somewhere."

Alfred snorted. "How long? An hour or two? I don't mind waiting, Arthur. It's easier for you."

"If you want to." Arthur shrugged brusquely, but his cheeks were still red. "Probably no more than two hours."

It was three and a half. Alfred had fallen asleep in his car with a bag of Panera on his chest. An annoying tapping sound roused him out of his dreams. He fumbled to unlock the door for Arthur. The parking lot was dark now, lit by streetlights.

"Well, that was a bit more than two hours," Alfred said through a yawn, reaching to start the car again.

"I know, goddamn counselor. We didn't fucking do anything anyway. I told him you were out here, but he wouldn't let me leave earlier. Fucking..." Arthur trailed off into incoherent grumblings.

"I bought you dinner." Alfred shoved the bag into Arthur's chest. "And a smoothie."Arthur didn't say anything, and he looked over. "What?"

That's when he saw the guilt on Arthur's face. But there was something else too. Arthur's fingers went fumbling for a cigarette. He couldn't get it into his mouth fast enough. Alfred saw that his hands were shaking violently. His breathing kept catching.

Alfred stopped the car at a deserted stoplight. "Hey, Arthur, you know I don't mind waiting, I promise. I wouldn't do it if it bothered me that much."

Arthur flinched away from his hand when he reached out to touch him. "It's nothing," he ground out. "Just some things that the counselor made me drag up. It's nothing."

Alfred frowned and said very quietly, "Well, it doesn't seem like nothing to you."

Arthur didn't say anything, turning his face away in the dark. He couldn't seem to get his hands under control, even as he clasped them in his lap. Now his whole torso was shaking. Alfred could just make out him pinching himself around the wrists, scratching and pulling and tugging at the thin skin there.

Alfred didn't know what to do, so he pulled over in a parking lot. Arthur didn't complain or couldn't, staring determinedly out the window, crushing his cigarette between his teeth. In the light of one of the streetlamps, Alfred saw a well of blood start to drip from Arthur's wrists into his hands. He kept picking at them heedlessly though.

Of all moments, Gilbert's mean jokes came rushing back.

Alfred fumbled for some paper napkins. Then he grabbed each of Arthur's hands, pulling them apart from each other. "Stop," he murmured. His own voice sounded strange to him, sad almost. "You're hurting yourself."

Arthur didn't fight him as he carefully dabbed away the blood with the napkins, but Arthur didn't look either. His fingers still twitched restlessly so that Alfred was afraid if he let go, Arthur would go back to pulling his skin off. Much like the picture on his shirt.

Alfred wrapped Arthur's small bony hands in his larger ones and squeezed quickly two times. Arthur got the general idea. He squeezed back. Soon, he was nearly crushing the bones in Alfred's hands.

"There we go," Alfred whispered, unable to bear the silence. "Damn, you're going to permanently misshape my fingers." Though Arthur didn't once look at him, his grip tightened even more, till Alfred felt he knew why the phrase iron grip had come into being. Suddenly, he wasn't just holding Arthur's hands, but Arthur was holding his.

"That's it," He murmured. He kept his eyes on their joined hands, realizing just how important this was to him. How virtually overnight he had taken Arthur's problems as his own. He couldn't stop it. Arthur needed somebody on his side, even if it was the losing side. It was better than being alone.

He didn't notice Arthur was watching him. Only when Arthur's hands loosened their grip a little bit did he look up. Arthur still had the crushed and soggy cigarette in his teeth, having no free hand to remove it. He had an unreadable expression on his face, but he almost looked lost.

Grinning, Alfred brought a pair of their joined hands up to remove the cigarette. Arthur exhaled with stale smoke breath getting all in Alfred's face. It did nothing to lessen his smile.

"Now, I know you're probably not feeling up to it, but I did get you a pretty kickass smoothie. The black cherry ones are the absolute best. Also, there's a sandwich and some soup in there for you. I'm going to make you eat while I have you."

Arthur dropped his head, looking at their hands again.

"You alright?" Alfred asked in a softer voice.

"Yeah," Arthur exhaled again. "Yeah." Slowly, he peeled his sticky hands away from Alfred's, the napkins sticking to the bloody spots. He carefully pulled those off as well. "Did you say black cherry?" He asked, making an effort to sound better.

"The very kind." Alfred grinned, handing him the smoothie from the cupholder. He brought the straw to his lips and began sucking in such an adorable way that Alfred nearly laughed. "Is it to satisfaction?"

"It's very good. Thank you," Arthur answered him in a small voice. Once again at odds with his appearance.

Alfred put the car in drive, turning up the heat for the journey. Arthur devoured everything Alfred purchased for him, before leaning back comfortably in his seat. Alfred had assumed he was asleep until he caught Arthur watching him in the dark. He almost said something, but decided against it. Feeling Arthur's eyes on him the rest of the drive. He wondered what Arthur was thinking.

When he got home, he was exhausted. It was only around 8:30 at night, but he felt like the whole day had been a whirlwind. Matthew was sitting on the couch watching Netflix, so Alfred crashed beside him.

"Where did you guys go?" Matthew asked him in a low voice, at least tactful enough for that.

"I told you he got put on probation for the assault thing. He has counseling for anger management that he has to go through. I'll probably be taking him again on Thursday."

"What about your job?"

Alfred shrugged. "Honestly, I'm thinking I'm going to quit. I hate it there anyway. I've got a decent amount of money saved from last year. As long as I don't go crazy, I think it's alright to take senior year off."

"Because of him?" Matthew asked, and Alfred cursed him for being so nosy.

"No, because I don't like the job. Didn't I just say that?"

"Yeah, and you just said you'd need to drive him to his long counseling appointments after school. Can't he drive himself?"

"He doesn't have a license."

Matthew's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"

"He never took the test. Jeez, could you stop treating him like he's done everything wrong in life? He's not half bad when you get to know him."

"I'm sorry." Matthew watched him quietly for a moment. "It's just strange, Alfred. Why do you care? He punched you in the face."

Alfred threw his head back. "I don't know, Matt. We're friends now maybe? And I care what happens to my friends?"

Matthew bit his lip like he was debating whether or not to say anything. "He acts weird around you."

"Yeah, maybe because I don't treat him like shit."

"Maybe," Matthew allowed, but frowned. "Alfred, don't get upset."

"What?"

"Well, I think he might... like you."

"Well, I'd hope so. Geez, Matt, he's not an alien. I like him too."

"No, Alfred," Matthew groaned. "I think he might _like_ you, Alfred, you numbskull."

Alfred's eyes bulged. "You think he's gay?"

"I told you not to get upset."

"Why would I be upset? You're gay. I don't give a fuck. He's gay. It doesn't matter to me."

"But Alfred," Matthew watched him carefully. "Don't take this the wrong way. But you kinda seem like you might..." He didn't finish the sentence, but Alfred knew well enough where it was going.

When he didn't deny it right away, Matthew's eyes grew huge. "Alfred, are you-

"Don't." Alfred held up a hand. "Don't ask me right now. I don't know. I'm not ashamed or hiding or whatever. Honestly, I just want Arthur to be okay. I don't care if that's as his friend or... something else. Whatever he wants is what I want."

Matthew just stared at him. "You've never said anything like that before."

"Yeah, well, I'm serious this time."

"I can tell." Matthew shook his head.

School the next day was absolute hell. For some reason, his minor concussion flaired up and he spent the majority of his classes with his head on his desk. Gilbert was avoiding him too. Constantly making comments about that moody boy Jones. Alfred rolled his eyes when he heard them, determined to ignore the roasting.

After school, he was walking towards the parking lot with Kiku.

"You do smell a little bit like smoke, Alfred-san."

Alfred gave him a sheepish grin. "I think it's my hair. I can't get it out, and now my car stinks. I think I've just given up hope."

Kiku frowned. "Do you smoke, Alfred?"

"No, a good friend of mine does. It rubs off."

"Is that... him?"

Alfred blinked. "What?" He followed Kiku's line of sight to his tan Civic and his mouth dropped open. Arthur was sitting against the hood of his car, a thin stream of smoke whisping from his cigarette. "Oh, wow, uh yeah that's him. Look I'll talk with you, later. Bye."

He jogged forward with raised eyebrows. Arthur met him with a completely expressionless face.

"Uh, hi," Alfred said.

Arthur merely nodded. "Hi."

"So were you just in the neighborhood or something?" Alfred trailed, looking down at Arthur's clothing today. A Kiss t-shirt with the band in all out shredder make up. However strangely, he seemed to be missing his emo skinny jeans. A pair of regular boot-cut blue jeans with no holes in sight were the replacement.

"Something like that," Arthur said, blowing a cloud of smoke into his face.

"Gah," Alfred recoiled, shoving at him. "Arthur, don't do that."

Arthur smirked, tilting his head to the side so that all the piercings in his left ear caught the light.

Alfred rolled his eyes. "I'm taking you back to your apartment. You're a menace to society, Kirkland."

"Lead me away," Arthur said, seeming up for just about whatever. Alfred couldn't fathom what had gotten into him.

When they got there, Arthur promptly settled on the floor in front of the couch, looking up at him expectantly. He nearly laughed. They'd literally done that once, but Arthur was acting like it was an everyday thing.

"Want me to order pizza?" He asked half-jokingly, but Arthur nodded.

"And grab two Heinekens," He said, waving towards the fridge.

Alfred turned around, unable to help grinning with his back to Arthur. What was this? They were doing normal friendship things now? After he'd ordered the pizza, he sat down beside Arthur handing him a beer. The glass patio sliding door was open, ruffling Arthur's hair with a light breeze. For once the temperature was perfect. And Arthur was just watching him.

"Can I ask you something?" Alfred murmured.

"Well, I suppose you could. Doesn't mean I'll answer."  
"Fair enough, but you seem like you're in a good mood, so I'll try my luck." Alfred grinned when Arthur rolled his eyes. "What are your tattoos?"

Arthur's thick eyebrows disappeared in his wild hair.

"What?" Alfred demanded.

"I just wasn't expecting that question." Arthur sat up. "Hold my cigarette."

When he began wriggling out of his t-shirt, Alfred's heart skipped a beat. Arthur was actually going to show him. But his excitement quickly turned to horror when he saw Arthur's torso. Pocked red and pink circular indentations littered his stomach and his back. Burns. Cigarette burns. Alfred suddenly felt like he was going to be sick. He worked to control his facial expression not wanting to destroy Arthur's rare good mood. But...

Had Arthur done these himself? They looked relatively old, but there were so many of them. And he smoked so much. He looked almost like he had leprosy in places. There were so many marks. The wave of nausea wasn't going away. It was increasing.

"Excuse me, Arthur. I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back." he said in what he hoped was a normal voice. Once he had escaped, he sunk onto the bathroom floor, trying to push the image out of his head. Was it Arthur? Did Arthur do it? Some of them were in hard to reach places. Somebody else? Oh, but that didn't make it any better. He really felt like he might throw up. Someone had hurt Arthur or Arthur had hurt himself, and it was enough to make Alfred's chest cave in.

Alfred realized he still had Arthur's cigarette and stubbed it out angrily in the sink. It took him several minutes to find his center again. He couldn't go out there freaking out. He just couldn't. Arthur would be horrified and probably never invite him over again. Alfred got off the ground, turning on the sink to splash water in his face.

When he returned, he was somewhat dismayed to find Arthur smoking again, staring distantly out the window. From here, Alfred could see the large swathes of red on his back, and he realized that it was impossible Arthur had done whatever those were. His skin was almost waxy like he had been thrown on a giant hot stone and fried. Alfred pushed the images away.

"Well, where were we?" He asked, impressed with his own cheerful tone.

Arthur glanced suspiciously at him. "Are you alright?"

"It's the concussion," Alfred lied. "Sometimes it makes me feel nauseous. Sorry."

His heart jumped when he saw something akin to sympathy in Arthur's eyes. Arthur stubbed out his cigarette and then turned so that Alfred had a full view of his back and the tattoo on the his neck. Turns out Arthur was surprisingly creative with his tattoos. He'd designed them all himself. Each one had a special meaning even if Arthur wouldn't explain it all the way. There was one on his shoulder and one on the back of his neck. One on each of his biceps and one on his ribs.

"That's really cool, Arthur," Alfred praised him honestly. "I can't even draw. You're so creative."

Arthur blushed red, reaching for another slice of pizza. "Most people think they're a waste of money."

"Why?" Alfred asked incredulously. "You gotta do some things you wanna. And if it's how you wanna express yourself then why not? You have some amazing ideas."

Arthur ducked his head, looking quickly out the window. His ears, as well, were now strawberry colored. Alfred wanted strangely to grab him by the chin and look into his eyes. He wanted to see Arthur's reaction to compliments, really see it. Every time he was given even the semblance of one, he acted as if it were the biggest thing in his world. It was adorable, but it ultimately made Alfred sad, knowing Arthur had never gotten desensitized by encouraging pep talks from his mom or insistent ego boosting from his friends. Every compliment seemed to be new territory.

"Hey, remind me," Alfred said once Arthur had a bit of time to cool off, "to ask you to design me a tattoo if I ever want one."

If his other compliments were raindrops, this one broke the damn. Arthur's eyes widened in unbridled astonishment. He couldn't keep his reaction off his face or out of his voice. "Really?" he asked.

Alfred grinned. "Yeah, really. You didn't think I was lying about them being awesome, did you?"

"No, no, I just..."Arthur laughed nervously, taking up the last piece of pizza. "No one's ever said anything that nice to me before. I can't help wondering if I heard you right."

Alfred smiled sadly. "You heard me right."

If it was possible, Arthur seemed in an even better mood after that. Half a pizza in him and stars in his eyes, Alfred was still shocked when Arthur tossed away his empty pack of cigarettes and didn't immediately go seek another.

As the day stretched into night, Arthur rolled over to face him, still shirtless. His skin looked even stranger in the television lighting, highlighting the dips and nicks in it more prominently.

"Alfred," he said quietly. His breath still smelled like stale cigarette smoke even though he hadn't smoked anything in the last half hour.

"Yeah?"

"I know you were looking at my burns."

Alfred couldn't come up with an answer to that. So he just nodded.

"It's strange," Arthur whispered, his voice straining to be lighthearted. "I completely forgot about them until you left to go to the bathroom. I never would have taken off my shirt, at least like that, if I remembered. But I didn't even think about it at all. It didn't cross my mind."

He searched for a way to reassure Arthur that he was grateful for his trust. A sad smile stretched across his features and he reached out laying his hand gently against the back of Arthur's head.

"I'm sorry life's been so hard on you. It makes me sad. You shouldn't have had to deal with all of this. It wasn't fair."

Arthur bit his lip, staring uncomfortably at the floor. Alfred gave the back of his head a couple strokes before taking his hand back. It wasn't the reaction he would've hoped for, but there was something to be said that Arthur didn't pull away from his touch.

When it was time for Alfred to go, Arthur followed him to the door. He believed Arthur when he said he forgot about the burn marks, but he felt it was strange that now Arthur remembered he hadn't put his shirt back on. All afternoon, he'd laid there barechested with Alfred. Alfred wondered if some part of Arthur just wanted to be known.

He said his goodbyes somewhat reluctantly, making sure to hint that he hadn't minded at all that he found Arthur sitting on his car.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello guys!**

 **Thank you all so much for all the love this story has received thus far. Your reviews especially make my day. If you have time to drop one, I'd be thrilled to hear what you're thinking.**

 **Much love, doze**

* * *

And just like that Arthur became a fixture in the school parking lot. No one dared walk over and tell Arthur to leave. Especially after Tuesday.

It was a regular day. Alfred was hurriedly trying to ditch his friends for Arthur, who he could see all through last period sitting on the hood of his car. Using the bottom of his boot to stifle cigarettes. Alfred's friends weren't happy with him. Multiple times they had invited him out, and multiple times he'd stood them up for pizza with Arthur. At this point, he told them they were just going to have to take a permanent rain check. Arthur was his top priority.

School was hell in its own way. College applications were starting to rev up and choke most of them. All the things they would need to worry about. It felt like everything was simultaneously opening and closing. Alfred couldn't wait to get out of high school, but another part of him was scared to leave it.

Arthur then was becoming a constant. He'd found a job at the grocery store, but he'd stipulated his hours to be early in the morning and during the afternoon. This way he could always spend time with Alfred in the evenings. When Arthur had first told him this, he'd been surprised, but he was beginning to realize that he was as important a part of Arthur's schedule as Arthur was to his.

As Alfred was grabbing his books, one of the office aids tapped him on the shoulder.

"Are you Alfred Jones?"

"Uh, yeah."

"The principal wants to speak with you."

Alfred scowled. Really? Right now? Irritably, he waved goodbye to his friends and followed the aid to the office. Unsurprisingly the first thing out of the principal's mouth was, "Mr. Jones as you know we work hard to maintain our status as a smoke free campus. This building has been recently remodeled, and we'd like to keep it nice for as long as possible."

Alfred bit the side of his cheek. "Uh, huh. Listen sir, I don't smoke. I'm sorry if my clothes-

"That's not what I brought you here for." The principal interrupted. "You're not in trouble, but the faculty have noticed that your uh... friend doesn't seem to be following our rules. There's nothing wrong with him waiting for you after school. But he has to put the cigarette out."

Alfred blinked. "Not to be rude, sir. But Arthur isn't smoking in the building. What's wrong with-

"He drops his butts on the ground in the parking lot. Campus security has noticed. We're trying to keep the campus clean."

"Okay," Alfred exhaled. "Well, have one of them asked him to stop?"

"I figured this would best be handled by someone close to the situation." The principal looked at him, and he didn't miss the fact that the principal had just called Arthur a "situation".

"I don't understand why you needed to talk to me about this," Alfred argued frustrated. "Sure, I'll talk to him, but any those security guys loafing around could have told him to stop. What are they doing during school hours anyway?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm asking you to do it. If you won't, then he'll be escorted off the premises next time."

"By campus security?" Alfred crossed his arms sullenly.

"By the cops." The principal enunciated each word sharply, and Alfred felt his temper flare. It was all he could do not to yell.

"What? Because you couldn't just ask him to leave like a civilized person? You'll stay in the building and call the cops? For Christ sake, he doesn't have a gun. He wears makeup." Alfred bit back a curse, exhaling. "Nevermind. I'm sorry. I'll talk to him. You're right. He shouldn't smoke here."

A sudden crashing sound interrupted the principal's reply. He and Alfred exchanged a look before both were up and at the door. In the reception area, a tall blonde man stood with his arms crossed in a purple button up shirt. On the floor with an overturned potted plant on his shoulder and foldable table under his butt was Arthur. He had dirt and water dripping all down his hoodie and a hand pressed to his cheek. His other hand was curled into a fist.

Alfred recognized that look in his eyes. He jumped past the principal and the blonde man to crouch by Arthur.

"Hey, Art, what happened?"

"You're a fool, Arthur."

Alfred looked up at the blonde man in surprise. His blue eyes were hard. "Stay away from this school or I will get you in trouble with the law."

"Fuck off, Francis," Arthur spat out a wad of blood on the floor. "You didn't let me finish. He's 18 and he's just here to give me a ride. You jump to conclusions."

Arthur glanced over at him and held out his hand. Alfred took it and helped him up, carefully pulling the potted plant off his shoulder. Arthur cursed when he saw the mud on his shirt.

"Do you have detergent?" Alfred asked naturally.

"No," Arthur gave him a sheepish look. "But I really don't want to go back to the store."

"I'll run in for you. You can keep your lazyass in the car." Alfred gave him a light push, eyeing his cheek where a bruise was beginning to form. Arthur didn't seem all that angry considering. In fact, he was almost smiling.

Francis was looking at them with a strange expression.

"Now, Mr. Bonnefoy," the principal began and Alfred suddenly realized who he was. It was the new French teacher. Matthew had him.

"It's no problem," Arthur interrupted to everyone's astonishment. "I was just coming in to look for Alfred. We got into an argument." He trailed off, glancing at the ground. "I'm sorry about your table."

Alfred couldn't help but laugh then. "Can we go, sir?"

The principal seemed genuinely thrown by Arthur's conciliatory attitude. Obviously, the tough projection had thrown him off. "Sure," the prinicipal waved them towards the door. "Don't worry about any damages. Now, Mr. Bonnefoy-

They didn't stick around to hear what became of Mr. Bonnefoy.

"You're a mess," Alfred teased when they got back from the store with the detergent and a stain remover stick. Arthur had removed his shirt and was carefully reading the backs of both of the containers. His face was screwed up in concentration. Alfred had the hilarious thought that he would look complete with a pair of reading glasses. Arthur didn't really know how to do laundry and read the backs of the containers every time he attempted it.

There was mud all in his hair and smeared up one of his arms.

"I'm going to take a shower," Arthur informed him as he carefully measured the right amount of detergent and stuck his shirt into the washing machine.

"And what am I going to do?" Alfred whined.

"Homework," Arthur suggested and Alfred groaned.

"Since when have you started making responsible suggestions?"

Arthur chuckled a little, turning around to face him. Alfred frowned when he saw that the side of his face was starting to turn an ugly purple color.

"He got you good, didn't he?"

Arthur's relaxed expression grew a little strained. "I... I didn't want to cause a fight and get you in trouble. I was goading him, but I didn't expect him to hit me."

"What were you guys even talking about?" Alfred asked leaning over to wet Arthur's one washcloth in the sink with cold water. He took a step forward holding it out. Arthur rolled his eyes resignedly.

"Nothing important." He started to take the washcloth, but Alfred pushed his hand away. Instead he reached with one finger and gently tilted Arthur's chin up. Arthur suddenly grew very still.

"That's not much of an answer, you know." Alfred murmured conversationally as he began to gently dab around the bruise.

Arthur said nothing, staring hard at the counter. This close he could feel the heat of Arthur's body radiating outward. Looking down, he saw the awful knicks and scars that littered his chest. An angry red gash went from the edge of his right pectoral to his sternum, looking frightfully jagged. If there had been stitches, he would have looked like Frankenstein's monster almost. After Alfred had wiped away the majority of the dirt and the washcloth was beginning to feel warm, he set it down.

"I'll make an icepack for you for when you get out." Alfred said firmly. "It'll look and feel a lot worse if you let it keep swelling."

"It's not that bad," Arthur grumbled, his ears going red.

"So you keep slurring every few words for fun then?"

"Shut up!"

While Arthur showered, Alfred dug out one of their old groceries bags from the trash and filled it with ice. He wrapped a towel around it to keep it cool and to keep it from leaking everywhere.

When Arthur returned his hair was wilder than usual and he wasn't wearing any eye liner. Alfred was surprised by how blonde his eyelashes were. They were nearly invisible. It was strange to see him without the liner gunked around. Also, gone were the tight pants and usual macabre hoodie. In their place was a baggy blue t-shirt and a pair of red plaid pajama pants, the towel still hung around his neck. He had taken off his nail polish as well.

Alfred who was sitting on the couch held out the icepack to him. He plopped it on the top of the couch and then settled down in such a way that he leaned his head against it. His bare feet he tucked up under him. The television was droning the news in the background but neither of them were paying attention.

Alfred leaned his head back against the couch and just watched Arthur, even as Arthur watched him. Arthur still smelled noticeably like an ash tray, but maybe it was the couch. If anything he smelled like a less putrid ash tray than normal, because he didn't currently have a cigarette in his mouth. Whenever Alfred had seen Arthur smile, he'd noticed that Arthur's teeth were stereotypically crooked and yellow. But rather than being disgusted, he found it endearing that whenever Arthur did give a genuine smile it was so off kilter and uniquely his own.

He got the sense sometimes, when he was really paying attention, that Arthur didn't like the way he looked. It was one thing to like eyeliner and nail polish. But it was another thing to wear it every moment of every day. Until now, he'd never seen Arthur without eyeliner. And the tattoos, he couldn't help but notice that they seemed to be in places where he had the largest concentration of scars, like he was trying to patch them up, cover them. There was nothing wrong with it. Alfred didn't judge him for it, but he did notice.

Arthur wore his clothing like it was his armor. But he didn't need it. Alfred wondered if he knew that. He didn't need to wear makeup or nail polish or band hoodies to be valuable, to be someone. He was handsome just like this. In his pajamas with shower hair and bare feet.

Handsome.

The word struck around in Alfred's head for a few minutes. He wondered if Arthur knew he was handsome. The British accent was one thing, but the looks were another. Arthur was handsome.

And then he wondered what it meant that he was thinking about this now. Sure, he could respectfully notice another guy's looks without being weird about it. But Arthur wasn't just another guy. He flinched inwardly as Matthew's words came back to him. It was something of a personal joke to him that Matthew had officially come out before he had.

His mother wasn't the type to push him, but it must have been even more obvious to her than Matthew. Matthew wasn't there in 2nd grade when he had his first kiss with Tommy Jacobs in the car on the way home for a sleepover. He'd thought his mom was still in the grocery store getting their ice cream. He hadn't seen her walking towards the car. Tommy, poor boy, he probably wasn't gay at all. But Alfred was his best friend, and he hadn't said no.

Middle school he had decided firmly that he liked girls. He had so many girlfriends he'd lost track of them. Those silly two week relationships, where they broke up by passing notes in class. In high school, he had decided that he was a little tired of going out with anyone that wore pink lipgloss and carried Coach. He'd become more invested in the boys soccer team instead. That is, watching them. He genuinely enjoyed the job these days, but originally he'd only taken it in the hopes of watching boys run around and get all sweaty on the field.

Now, he was here with a boy that he genuinely liked and cared about. And he knew he couldn't say anything. He had no idea if Arthur was gay or even if he was, if he would return that kind of interest. Alfred wasn't interested in having sex with him. Wait. Rephrase that. He wasn't interested in just having sex with him. He wanted a relationship, like they had now, but more intimate, better. He wanted to be let into Arthur's life.

It was happening slowly, but he wanted it to just keep happening. There was nothing he enjoyed more than learning another fact about his friend.

"What are you thinking about?"

He jumped a little as Arthur's voice broke him out of his thoughts. Indeed. He picked a hell of a time to ask.

"Nothing. You?"

"Nothing," Arthur whispered like they had both agreed to lie.

Alfred smiled, "How's your face?"

"Numb."

"Good."

"Alfred?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you..." Arthur looked down at his hands. "Can you tell me about yourself?"

Alfred blinked, shifting around to put his arms behind his head. "What do you want to know?"

"Tell me about your parents."

Alfred thought it was an odd subject until he remembered the scars on Arthur's back. "My father left a long time ago. I've only met him twice. He came for my fifth birthday and dropped off a hundred bucks for me and my brother to split. My mom wasn't happy. I remember them arguing in the kitchen and then he left and didn't come back. The last time I saw him, I was twelve. He came to my school, and got me to come over to him at recess. I didn't recognize him until he said who he was. He asked me how I was doing in school, and I asked him if he would hang out with me for awhile. He promised to come back the next day, but he never came back again."

Arthur's eyes were glittering with a strange interest. Anybody else would have apologized for an intrusion into a sad part of Alfred's past.

"What did he look like?" Arthur asked.

Alfred squinted. "He was very tall, and he had the same color eyes as me. He didn't wear glasses though, and his hair was brown, not blonde. I remember that he had really big hands, so that whenever he grabbed me by the shoulder, I thought about how cool he was. Big and powerful."

"Did he ever hurt you?" Arthur's voice was barely a whisper. Alfred's eyes flicked over Arthur's face.

"No. I wished he would be there for me. But he never hurt me."

"A-and your mum?" Arthur's voice cracked a little and he cleared his throat.

Alfred grinned, determined to lighten the mood. "She's the best. Always involved in our school. She tried to be around for us, and looking back I think that made all the differences. She had to work a lot of jobs to make ends meet. But we always had special bedtime together, where she would read us stories. Now, we watch Netflix instead whenever we're all home."

Arthur nodded, picking at his fingernails. "And your brother?"

Alfred rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Matthew's a rock. I'm the crazy one. Didn't you say you had a brother?"

Arthur's eyes suddenly hardened and he looked away with his jaw tight. "I have four."

"Four?" Alfred couldn't help but be surprised.

"Three older. One younger." Arthur had begun to pick at a loose bit of string on the cushion.

"Sucky luck for you, being sandwiched somewhere in the middle." Alfred murmured. "For the longest time, I didn't like having a twin because everybody would call me Matthew or him Alfred. I think we resolved to be as different as possible to avoid confusion." He laughed.

Arthur merely nodded. "My brothers are... a lot different than me."

"What's the differentest thing about you, Arthur?" Alfred asked him teasingly.

But Arthur answered with a scowl on his face. "Well, except for Peter, I still live in this godforsaken town and they don't. I... I..." He seemed to struggle for words, before suddenly bursting out. "None of us have college degrees. None of us can drive. None of us... none of us are sober. We all live alone except James, who somehow managed to get slapped with the handsome stick. We've all been in jail. I guess... I guess I'm..." His shoulders suddenly slouched as he reached for his pack of cigarettes on the table. "Just like them."

Alfred frowned, and did something he'd never done before. Before Arthur's deft fingers could pluck a cigarette from the box, Alfred put his hand around it and pulled it away.

"Alfred," Arthur snarled crossly, but Alfred ignored him.

"Can your brothers draw?" Alfred asked mildly.

Arthur scowled harder. "I don't know. What does that have to-

"Have your brothers ever designed their own tattoos from scratch?"

Arthur opened and closed his mouth.

Alfred cocked his head. "Do your brothers care about college? I know you do, even if you haven't been going recently."

Before he could answer, Alfred continued. "Would your brothers help out a loser high school kid sucking ass at his first fast food job? What about guilt? Do your brothers ever feel guilty about it? Do they ever try to control their anger? Do they care to control it?"

"I don't know," Arthur said, staring at him blankly. "You think I care?"

"I do." Alfred answered. "You go to all your counseling without a fuss. You've done your community service. You help out poor losers like me at soul-sucking fast food jobs. You felt bad after you hurt me, even though I got in your way. You came back because you were defending me. Why did you do that?"

"Defend you?" Arthur asked weakly.

Alfred nodded.

"I..." Arthur shrugged. "I don't know. He was saying things that weren't true. I deserved what he said about me, but you didn't."

"You didn't." Alfred disagreed adamantly.

"Didn't what?"

Alfred reached out and brushed Arthur's bangs back from his forehead, tracing one of his dark eyebrows with his thumb. "You didn't deserve what he said about you. You weren't doing anything wrong."

"It's more who I am than what I do," Arthur said with a weak chuckle as Alfred continued to stroke his hair back. It was getting all fluffy now that it was mostly dry, puffing up in all directions.

"That's not true either," Alfred leaned forward, so that he was close enough to see the different strains of green in Arthur's eyes. "You don't deserve it, Arthur. Any of it. You're not bad. Or dirty. Or evil. Or whatever it is you've been called. I know you."

Something seemed to snap in Arthur's expression and he looked away with a derisive snort. "Well, thanks Alfred. I'll be sure to remember to defeat the naysayers with my loving compassionate heart next time around."

Alfred only sighed at the defense, dropping his hand and flopping back onto his side of the couch.

"You'd think you were quoting my little pony back there or something," Arthur went on, but he only sounded uncomfortable. "And give me my cigarettes back, will you? Sixteen years of 'em haven't been enough to kill me yet, but I'll make sure to make this pack count."

Alfred scowled, clutching the box tighter. He turned to rebuke Arthur, to yell at him for saying something so stupid. (Even if it did betray an awful lot about how Arthur saw himself). But abruptly something clicked in his brain. Sixteen years... He started smoking when he was eight...

"You're twenty-four?" He asked in shock.

Arthur's face went from red to chalk-white so fast it was like a strobe. For a second, Alfred could see the gears turning in his mind, figuring out how Alfred had guessed. Then the strangest expression crossed his face, one that Alfred didn't immediately recognize. He turned away like he had no idea what to say, his shoulders hiked up in a defensive wall.

Alfred watched his back, realizing that he should have kept the discovery to himself. Arthur obviously hadn't wanted him to know. Slowly, he set the pack of cigarettes down on the couch between them. Not at all surprised when Arthur's hand shot out to snatch them.

Almost numbly, he got to his feet and went towards the kitchen. It didn't really matter to him that Arthur was older. He had just assumed when Arthur had said he was in his first year of college that he would be nineteen or twenty. Arthur was probably angry at him. He'd just made things awkward again, and he didn't know how to alleviate that.

Balancing his car keys in his palm, he figured the best thing he could do was give it a bit of time. Arthur would hopefully get over it, and they could go back to being friends. He had just started to turn the doorknob, when he felt a hand on his elbow. He jumped to find Arthur standing behind him.

Arthur took three steps backward nearly tripping over himself. He crossed his arms behind his back like he was promising never to touch Alfred again.

"W-wait," He said in a whisper. And Alfred suddenly understood the emotion on his face. It was so paralyzingly strong that he hadn't known what to think of it. But there was genuine fear on Arthur's face. Not distress, not anger, but fear.

Alfred blinked in bewilderment. "What?"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I understand that you might want to... that you might not want to... that I'm p-pathe-" He broke off, looking away and picking sharply at his wrists. "Fucking hell, you're so nosy sometimes. God, I wish you would just fucking mind your business."

Alfred still didn't understand, but Arthur looked like a live wire. He was so tense. Carefully, Alfred grabbed him by the shoulders. He saw Arthur's eyes go huge, before he dragged him into a hug. "So I thought you were 19 and you're not. Big whoop. I think a lot of things that aren't true. What's the matter?"

"You're not leaving?" Arthur said blankly. He didn't turn his head so his words were muffled against Alfred's chest.

"Well, I was going to, because I thought you were angry with me for guessing." Alfred frowned feeling the tenseness in his shoulders. "Wait... did you think I was upset?"

Arthur didn't answer and that went a long way in itself. Alfred sighed, tightening his grip and resting his cheek against the top of Arthur's head. "I'll suffocate you, Kirkland. You're such an idiot. You think I care if you're 24 or not? You're my best friend. I wouldn't care if you were ninety. Honest to goodness that's the dumbest thing you could be worrying about. You should be worrying about whether I'll break your neck someday for breathing smoke in my face. You poor loser."

Arthur absolutely sagged then, going practically boneless. He didn't move or say anything, but Alfred felt the relief emanating off him in waves.

Alfred grinned, continuing. "You're so bad at reading people, you know. I thought I was bad, but you still can't tell that you're like my favorite person, can you?" He looked down, amused to find Arthur still had his face mashed against his chest. He didn't seem to know how to work the mechanics of a hug and stood their sort of like a limp sausage. Alfred wanted to tease him. Say something like. You can put your arms around me, too, you know? But he was afraid of what Arthur might think.

"Can you breathe down there?" He said nonetheless, finally pulling away.

Arthur scowled and looked away. His face was all red and he reached up to rub tenderly at his bruise.

Biting his lip, Alfred reached forward one more time and stroked back Arthur's hair. Arthur froze, his cheeks going even redder if possible.

"You don't have to say anything." Alfred murmured, dropping his gaze to their shoes. "I just wanted to make sure you understood that I cared about you and what happens to you. And... and that that's a permanent thing. I'm not like my father."

Arthur scowled glancing up at him. "Well, I am my father. I have to be him."

Alfred shook his head. "I haven't even met your father, Arthur. And I can tell you that you're not him. If you ever doubt it, just ask me again. And then ask me again in a few weeks if you're afraid the answer's changed."

Arthur looked away, grumbling. "You've got to be here in a few weeks then. To answer the question."

"Excellent detective skills, Mr. Holmes."

"I would appreciate less sarcasm, Doctor," Arthur replied, surprising him.

"And his sense of humor returns. Will wonders never cease?"

Arthur scowled, harder. "I should kill you. I really should."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! Here is an update after approximately 30,000 years. I really appreciate all the support this story has been receiving. All your reviews totally make my day!**

* * *

Arthur was, albeit grudgingly, allowing Alfred to make him another icepack for his bruise. Whoever this Francis guy was, he had a strong right hook. The evidence was all over Arthur's face even a week later. His jawline was an ugly yellowish with purple flecks, and Alfred teased him that they should put a picture on the internet and see how many views they got. Arthur was not amused.

They were out on the porch, because the AC was broken. Arthur had the usual cigarette clamped between his teeth. Sweat shone on the back of his neck and darkened the hair around his ears. He was wearing short sleeves today, a deep blue shirt with a pocket. His jeans were stark black against their surroundings, no holes today, and a ripped pair of canvas shoes that looked like they were older than the 70s.

And it was unfortunate.

Today, Alfred was finding himself really, unbearably, excruciatingly attracted to him.

Once he'd admitted to himself that Arthur was in fact a very certain kind of handsome, everything had gone downhill. From almost anybody else's point of view, Arthur was a mess. He couldn't go five minutes without a cigarette and he had a real temper problem. His clothes practically screamed Don't Touch Me.

But it didn't matter. Alfred had witnessed his rare smile, and he was hooked.

"I'm only allowing this because it's hot," Arthur told him, taking the icebag and resting it between his shoulder and his cheek.

"Alright, whatever floats your boat," Alfred shrugged, letting it go. He could just feel Arthur waiting for him to smirk. The truth was Alfred felt more than certain that Arthur liked it when he insisted on taking care of him. Alfred's limited funds were perhaps even more limited now, because almost every time they got together he bought them something to eat. He suspected, but still hadn't gathered up the courage to ask, that Arthur didn't eat anything else the rest of the day. Yet Arthur always seemed more than willing to split a pizza with him and watch the three channels of TV that he could get.

It just seemed that Arthur had never had anyone around to worry about him before.

"It shouldn't be so hot," Arthur groused, wiping his forehead with the back of his cigarette hand. "It's unnatural for fucking September."

He had taken the only chair, his feet on the railing, and Alfred was left to find the most comfortable bit of wood floor.

"Yeah, no kidding." Alfred closed his eyes, breathing out. He'd be showing his mom his list of colleges tonight. She had required that he and Matthew each make one, that way they could talk about finances. It wasn't likely to be an uplifting conversation.

They trailed into a companionable silence, simply too hot to talk. Arthur made a sport of flicking cigarette butts as far as he could off the balcony. When he got one into the dingy pool, Alfred applauded for him. Arthur was just about to reach for another pack, when a hard banging on the front door interrupted them.

Alfred frowned. "Who's that?"

Arthur's dark eyebrows dropped low over his eyes. "Stay here."

"Uh, what? Why?" Alfred started to stand up with Arthur, but Arthur put a hand to his chest and actually shoved him back down.

"Stay here." He repeated and by the look in his eyes he absolutely wasn't kidding. Arthur stepped back into the apartment sliding the glass door closed behind him. Alfred leaned as far as he could, but all he could make out was part of Arthur's back as he opened the door and then stepped out.

Weird things tended to happen around Arthur. He seemed to be the sworn enemy of most middle age people, and apparently his face was enough to tick off their French teacher. Every once in awhile, Alfred actually suspected there was something serious going on. Arthur was a private person. If it had anything to do with funds, he wasn't talking about it. Those strained phone calls and this weird visitor.

Alfred leaned his head back again and closed his eyes. Hanging with Arthur after school was great. It didn't make any sense, but he could relax around Arthur. He didn't have to be anyone special. Arthur must have been gone a long time, because the next thing he knew he was being shaken awake.

"Alfred?"

Alfred blinked stupidly, realizing that the world around him had gone dark.

"What time is it?" He said groggily.

"Eight, eight thirty," Arthur didn't sound too certain. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, just got the worst crick in my neck." Alfred stretched his head from side to side. "You took a shower?"

He noticed Arthur's dripping hair and smeared eyeliner.

Arthur nodded carefully, "I felt dirty after being outside for so long." His eyes were fixed somewhere above Alfred's head. Alfred frowned to realize there were a couple of bandaids pasted on his forehead and chin. And his hand...

"Arthur, what happened?" He asked, alarmed to see two of Arthur's fingers bent in sickening directions.

"I fell down the stairs," Arthur said impatiently. "Get off your ass. Your mother will be expecting you soon. You know how she feels about me." He stormed back inside of the apartment, and Alfred tried to get his scrambled thoughts together. Could falling down the stairs really do that to his fingers? They looked like they'd been pulled backwards as far as they could go.

He rose to his feet, finding Arthur at the kitchen island, attempting to light himself a cigarette. A hiss and sharp intake of breath later, he dropped his lighter on his foot. He was bending down to reach it, one arm around his stomach with gritted teeth. Alfred began to suspect that Arthur had changed into his hoodie for a reason.

"Hey," he knelt down and picked it up, putting it on the counter. "Arthur, let me see your hand."

"I'm fine," Arthur snarled at him, tucking it behind his back. His green eyes were viciously sharp tonight. He looked like a caged animal.

Alfred bit his lip. "Let me see it."

"No. Go away."

Alfred scowled, "Arthur, I'm not leaving. You need to have that set."

"Fuck off, Alfred. I can handle it."

"Really? Because you seemed to be having such a grand old time with the lighter back there?"

"Fuck off!" Arthur exploded. "I've taken care of myself for years without you butting in. I don't want your help. I don't need it!"

Alfred scowled. "You fuck off. I don't care if you _need_ my help or not. I'm helping you because I want to." He took a step forward and Arthur took a step backward, limping Alfred realized. He was balancing all his weight on one foot. "Let me see it."

"For god's sake, Alfred, don't make me punch you again," Arthur wheezed.

"Let me see it!" Alfred took a decisive step forward, grabbing Arthur by one of his arms.

"Get off of me!" Arthur tried to pull away, landing on his hurt foot and giving an unearthly yell. He lost his patience suddenly. That familiar anger which he'd been trying so hard to wrangle under control in probation therapy sprang to life.

Alfred knew it was going to happen, but he didn't do anything to stop it. Arthur swung his arm forward and nailed him in the jaw. He expected to feel the splintering force of it, knocking his teeth out or something like that. Instead, he just felt the gross crack of Arthur's bones against his cheek, and only a hint of pain.

Arthur howled then like he couldn't help it, shuffling backwards, losing his balance and falling in an injured heap.

Arthur was hopeless. Alfred almost said it aloud, but he saw the distress written in Arthur's features. When Alfred started to take a step forward, Arthur flinched. He thought Alfred was going to kick him.

"Don't be stupid," He growled, crouching down to Arthur's level. "I'd never be able to hurt you."

His green eyes grew a fraction wider and he swallowed heavily.

"Now," Alfred began calmly. "I'm not going to ask questions, but I'm going to help. You can either comply with my offer or I can put you back on your ass again. Deal?"

"F-fucking impertinence," Arthur stuttered as Alfred put an arm around his waist and towed him to his feet. He dumped him on the couch and held out his hands. Reluctantly, Arthur held out his as well. One hand hosted two very mangled fingers and the other a host of swollen knuckles and strange cuts. Next, Alfred bent down and pulled off Arthur's sock. Arthur started to squawk at him, but one look was enough to cut him off. His foot was twisted. Alfred didn't think it was broken, luckily. Only sprained.

"Do you have anything I can wrap these with?" Alfred glanced up.

Arthur nodded mutely, clearing his throat. "Cabinet."

Alfred wandered to his bathroom and found a surprising host of medical supplies underneath the sink. Splints and tape and bandaids and antiseptic. He armed himself, trying not to think about why Arthur would have all of this stuff.

Deciding he would work from the easiest to the most difficult, he used one of the dining chairs to prop up Arthur's foot. Tape in hand, he began to expertly spin it around. "This is going to be a bitch to take off," he informed Arthur as his fingers brushed against Arthur's leg hair. "I would advise investing in some pre-wrap if this happens often."

"How do... how do you know how to do that?" Arthur asked.

"Soccer team manager," Alfred grinned. "Kind of an impromptu nurse at times." Once he was finished, it was good and tight. "That should provide you with some support," he murmured. "You know, that way you won't fall down the stairs again." Alfred looked up through his eyelashes to catch Arthur squirming, uncomfortable.

"Hands." He held out his own, and this time Arthur didn't fight him. "Let me just say in advance, that I'm sorry for this. But also, that punching me will only make it worse." Before Arthur could ask, he took one of his crooked fingers and pulled hard.

There was a nasty cracking sound and Arthur shouted ineloquently. "Fucking h-hellstorm."

"There's one," Alfred chuckled uneasily. "And here's two on the count of three. One. Two." He yanked with all his might and Arthur cursed again.

"You said three you fucking lunatic! You said three!"

Alfred laughed, "Best to get it over with quickly."

"I'll murder you, Alfred Jones." Arthur panted, turning his now straight fingered hand back and forth. Alfred took two of the finger splints and gently aligned them. He wrapped them securely in tape, and then set Arthur's hand down carefully.

"I don't think there's much I can do for this-" Alfred had been addressing Arthur's other hand. He'd rolled up the sleeve to see how far the swelling went and he was faced with a very discernible hand print. A bruise. Someone had grabbed him.

Arthur yanked his sleeve down quickly, giving Alfred a warning look.

"I promised no questions," Alfred said quietly. "But that doesn't mean you have to hide it from me."

He looked up again to find Arthur watching him pensively.

"It's to your credit," Arthur murmured. "that I let you get this far. Don't push me."

Alfred wanted to scoff. Let him. Indeed. Arthur threw one punch and landed on the floor. "Okay," he whispered, feeling a strange gripping sensation in his chest. "But." He grabbed Arthur's hand, pretended to examine it. Really, he just wanted to hold it. "Promise me that if you get hurt and you need help that you'll call me."

"Why does it matter to you?" Arthur looked away, scowling.

"Well," Alfred worked to keep from sounding insulted. "I couldn't stand losing my TV buddy or that one scary friend that keeps all the bullies from picking on me." He put on a mock frightened face, somewhat pleased when Arthur snorted and relaxed.

He laid his head tiredly against the couch as Alfred fluttered around him covering him in ice packs made out of shopping bags. "Alfred," he said, when Alfred even deigned to light him a cigarette.

"Hmmm?"

"What... what are you doing here? Why do you keep coming back?"

Alfred cocked his head at the disarmingly honest question. "You're my best friend."

"You don't know anything about me," Arthur scoffed.

Alfred shrugged. "I know the important things. Just like you do for me."

Arthur's eyes hardened, his tone sharpening. "What important things?"

"You know this isn't easy. Whatever I say you're going to bite my head off." Alfred snapped, suddenly losing his patience. "You just locked me out on your porch for four hours. I think I should at least get a pass from your negativity for awhile. Think, wouldn't you? I believe in you and I think you matter. Maybe that's why I spend almost everyday in this dump? Just trust me when I say, I don't want you to feel awful anymore and I wish you would tell me how I could help you. Because you're doing a pretty suckass job by yourself."

"Oh, and a perky, little high school kid is going to solve all my problems?" Arthur challenged.

Alfred scowled. "You're the pathetic one who's friends with a high school kid. Why don't you call on all your _other_ friends to help you, Arthur?"

Arthur growled at him, actually growled. Tendrils of smoke crawling through the cracks in his teeth. "I'd rather be alone. Consider yourself lucky that I'm such a tolerant babysitter."

All at once Alfred felt something snap. He took a lot of shit from Arthur, because everybody else in his life wouldn't. He had no idea about Arthur's family or Arthur's schooling. But even one day at McDonalds could tell him that everyone was ready to crawl down Arthur's throat at the slightest mistake. He knew Arthur was angry. He even thought Arthur had a good reason for it. But today it was just one step too far.

"Shut up!" He exploded. "It's certainly not a fucking picnic putting up with you every day either! You want to know the reason my mom doesn't like you? She thinks you're getting me into drugs! All you do is smoke. You don't eat anything. You'll wear the same shirt three days in a row if I don't say anything. And you get beat up all the time by random strangers! I know I'm not much, but I'm what you have and you've never seem to give a jackshit about me. I thought for just a minute that you might care too, but you can't even let me say _I care_ without jumping all over me! Why do you care, Arthur, that I care about you? I'm just another worthless piece in your worthless life! And I think I'm going back to my senior year if this is all the thanks I get for blowing off my friends and my family for you."

Alfred ended out of breath, somewhat surprised by his own gusto. He hadn't realized he'd been holding all that in. Maybe he should take it back...

Arthur took his grand time, stubbing out his cigarette on the couch arm and burning a magnificent hole into it. "You're finished?" He asked, raising his eyebrows icily. "Are you waiting for an invitation? You can let yourself out at the door, Alfred Jones. I never asked for your help."

Alfred swallowed, clenching his fists. He felt suddenly like he was grasping at straws. The anger was still too hot in his veins and he turned for the door. Suddenly everything people said about Arthur started to make sense."If you keep up like this, you'll wake up to find your whole life gone and nothing but a sucky pair of lungs for company." He said bitterly. "Is that what you want?"

"No, I have grander goals than that." Arthur said flatly. "Ideally, I won't wake up one day at all."

Alfred had his hand on the doorknob. He hated it! God, he freaking hated it! How could Arthur be so detached about it! How could he not care. Irrationally, his eyes began to water. He shouldn't speak again, because Arthur would hear it in his voice. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry, Arthur. I don't want you to feel like that anymore. You're so i-important to me." As his breathing hitched, he swung open the door and stormed out.

0 0 0

The next few days felt like he was free-falling. Arthur no longer sat on his car in the parking lot and the only place he went after school was home. His brother was worried about him, and even his mom started to ask him about his old McDonalds friend.

"We're not friends anymore, so you don't have to worry about me," Alfred told her bitterly. "He was a giant jerk anyway."

"Oh, Alfie, did he hurt you?" her voice softened, and Alfred scowled.

"He... he won't get better, ma. I don't know how to help him anymore."

"What do you mean, Al?" She asked, and he couldn't help but spill all.

"He's depressed," Alfred muttered, "and he doesn't have anybody around. I think he dropped out of college this year. I don't know. He won't tell me anything. But I like him. He's a good guy. He really is. I thought it would help him to know that he had a friend. That I was on his side no matter how many times he punched me. But... I don't know. I guess he never wanted anybody to be on his side."

His mom sighed. "Well, you should've had him around then, Alfred. I didn't realize you were so close to him."

Alfred blinked, slightly bewildered.

She laughed at his expression. "I'm not exactly thrilled that my sweet little hero is friends with a man like that, but if you see something in him, I trust you. I'll bet you're right, Alfie. I'll bet he doesn't have many positives in his life. I know you did a great job, but some people just won't be saved, Al."

Arthur indeed seemed to fall perfectly into that category.

"However," she said, drawing Alfred out of his thoughts. "If you make up with him, tell him he's welcome to come by for dinner and Netflix anytime."

Strangely, this served to make Alfred feel a little better about the whole debacle. He and Arthur were still estranged, but there was the small chance that things might be different in the future.

"Right, thanks ma."

0 0 0

The next day at school Alfred immersed himself with his friends again. He hadn't realized he'd been pulling away from them so much. They were happy to have his undivided attention again. He didn't notice until sixth period that someone was standing by his car. Over the course of the week, he'd mostly broken himself of the habit of looking out the window.

The only reason he looked this time was because the class was crowded around a robin's nest on the ledge. Glancing up at the parking lot, he saw a figure and his heart dropped when he recognized it.

"Miss Sanders, do you think there's any way we could go out and see the bird?" he whispered.

Gilbert laughed excitably, "Yeah, this is Biology after all."

"Please, can we go?" Another girl chimed in. Soon the whole class was begging. And Miss Sanders, good heavenly Miss Sanders, agreed. Alfred hung around at the rear of his class, holding the door for people, straggling until they were a good ways ahead and then he made a beeline for his car.

It was Arthur, wild-haired and dressed all in black! Alfred tried to check the excitement, but it burst out of him ridiculously.

"Arthur," he called, grinning. "Arthur... Arthur, what's wrong?" His smile fell off his face when he saw Arthur's expression.

"Alfred," Arthur murmured, taking a shaky step towards him. Alfred was hit with a wall of stale alcohol smell. "Y-you... you said," he slurred, looking unsteady. "Said I should c-call you when I needed h-help."

Alfred saw Arthur's knees buckle and moved forward quickly to grab him. "Sit on my car," he ordered, basically lifting Arthur to sit on the trunk. It was disconcerting how light he was. Arthur's face was above his. His green eyes were flat and distant, the pupils dilated strangely. Alfred felt something wet on his fingers, looking down he realized a small trickle of blood was dripping from the inside of Arthur's arm. He pushed his short sleeve up to reveal a plethora of scabs and puncture holes.

"Arthur," he said warily. "What have you been taking?"

"Alfred," Arthur slurred, his chin dipping forward and then lulling back. Alfred grabbed hold of him to steady him. "T-tell me again."

"What?" Alfred glanced frantically back at the school, watching the filing line of his class head back into the building. No one had noticed his absence. Arthur was drunk and he'd taken some kind of drug. Mixing the two had to be bad news. He didn't know what he should do.

Arthur reached out, tugging on Alfred's shirt. "T-tell me again. I need it a-again."

"What?" Alfred asked in exasperation, laying his hand against Arthur's chest. It alarmed him to feel Arthur's heart beating rapidly.

"A-again," Arthur stumbled over the word. He wasn't making sense. If he was talking about wanting more of a drug, he was out of luck.

"Come on. I need to get you out of here." Alfred put an arm around Arthur's waist, realizing simultaneously that it would be easier to lift him. He put his other arm at the bend in Arthur's knees. He carefully opened the back car door, laying Arthur across the backseat. Arthur sat up almost immediately, trying to grab him by his shirt.

"Okay, okay," Alfred breathed out. What did he know about overdosing? His heartbeat though fast was not too crazy. He hadn't vomited as far as Alfred could tell. And he was conscious. It didn't look like an overdose.

With that in mind, Alfred decided to take him back to his apartment where he could lie down. Arthur kept pestering him the whole ride and Alfred had to drive extra slow because he'd forgotten to put a seatbelt on him. By the end of the ride, Arthur was more agitated than at the start.

Alfred carried him up the stairs of his apartment. He ignored the royal mess in Arthur's living room, only to find to his dismay a royal mess in Arthur's bedroom as well. Beer bottles and beer bottles and cigarette packs and suspicious empty bags and empty lighters. Arthur had gone on a real bender.

Unceremoniously, Alfred began shoving all the junk off the mattress with one hand, holding Arthur up by the collar of his shirt with the other. The only blanket had a suspicious looking stain that was reminiscent of hastily cleaned vomit, and man, it smelled putrid. Alfred remembered that he had a picnic blanket out in his car from their last field trip. Depositing Arthur on the bare mattress, he promised to be back.

When he opened the front door, he nearly hit Arthur in the face with it. He had migrated from the bedroom to the foyer pretty quickly. Alfred scowled, grabbing him by the waist and tugging him back into the bedroom.

"Lay down, you idiot." He ordered, forcibly pushing him down.

"Y-you're not answering m-me!" Arthur exclaimed in frustration, shoving at him.

"Well, I don't know what you're asking."

"T-tell me again." Arthur repeated in a more subdued voice.

"Tell you what?" Alfred asked, brushing his blonde hair back, touching the old bandaids on his forehead. "What do you want to be told, Arthur?"

"What you always say," Arthur mumbled, tipping his head into Alfred's hand. A shock went through him. Apparently Arthur was drunk enough to accept affection. He reached down and hiked the blanket up over Arthur's shoulders. "I need it a-again."

"You're going to have to be more specific," Alfred informed him, unable to help smiling. He was so happy to be back in this ratty apartment again, so ludicrously happy.

"Why y-you... Why are you?" Arthur reached a hand up and touched Alfred's lips. "S-smiling?"

"I'm happy to see you," Alfred grinned. "It's your fault."

"I-I'm sorry." Arthur stumbled over the words, looking genuinely distressed.

Alfred frowned. "No, I was just teasing you. I'm smiling and it's your fault."

"Th-that's a good thing?"

"It is." Alfred smiled again. "Now what did you want me to tell you? How about you say it first and then I'll say it to you?"

"O-okay," Arthur agreed, rolling onto his back so that he could face Alfred more. "You're my best friend."

Alfred's heart stuttered a little. "You're my best friend."

"A-and you're my favorite person."

Alfred nodded, unable to meet his eyes anymore. "You're my favorite person."

"A-and you're important to me."

Alfred swallowed, laughing sadly. "Y-you're important to me."

"I d-don't like seeing you depressed."

Strangely, it felt like his heart was no longer beating. All those times he'd wondered if Arthur had really been listening to him. "I don't like seeing you depressed."

"Y-you're smart. Y-you're strong. And you won't work at McDonalds the rest of your life."

Alfred murmured the words back to him, reaching up to stroke his blonde hair. "Ah, Arthur those things are true, I-

But Arthur wasn't finished. "You have the best smile I've ever seen."

Alfred faltered a minute, certain he had never said that to Arthur before. At least not out loud. "You have the best smile I've ever seen." He repeated slowly.

"You're stronger than anybody I know."

Alfred said the words back, believing them. If it was what Arthur needed to hear, than he would say it. He just wondered how Arthur had been able to guess all these things were true.

Arthur seemed to sense his confusion, because he looked away and exhaled slowly. "You sm-smell nice." He muttered. And Alfred knew he had never said such a thing before. Arthur's ears were turning redder by the moment.

"You smell intolerable," Alfred teased, reaching up to ruffle his hair again.

"You have a horrible fashion sense."

"Hey!"

"You have horrible taste in best friends."

"Well..." Alfred rolled his eyes. "Matter of opinion. You have great taste, by the way."

"Y-you," Arthur stumbled over the words again, "You won't give up on me."

And this time, Alfred knew he wanted to hear it back.

He reached slowly behind Arthur dragging him into a sitting position and a hug. "Thank you. I know that's hard for you, but I liked hearing it. Nothing bad happened."

Arthur's shoulders tensed.

"You know you can put your arms around me too?" Alfred murmured. Then as if as an afterthought, he added. "And you're right, you know. You do have the best smile and you are the strongest person I know. I'm not giving up on you."

Alfred gasped a little when he suddenly felt Arthur's fingers clutching at the back of his t-shirt.

"Alfred," he slurred and it sounded like he had started crying. "Alfred, I lost my job again. I don't know what to do anymore."

Alfred swallowed heavily, reaching to comb the back of Arthur's head gently. "Don't worry about it right now. I'm not going anywhere. It's alright, Arthur. Nothing we can't handle."

"You're not alone." Arthur choked over the words.

Alfred smiled sadly. "You're not alone. I won't leave you alone again." And then he laid his head against Arthur's shoulder and held him as he cried.

* * *

 **Omigod, that last line is cheesy. I'm truly sorry. Once again, I'd like to reiterate that this story does not have a regular update schedule. Please follow if you want to keep track of it. Also, I am posting a USUK lawyer story for any interested.**

 **Night all!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey all! Thanks so much for all your support. I'm glad you seem to like this story as much as I do, haha. I will try to update this more regularly, so stay tuned!**

 **much love, doze**

* * *

Arthur had thoroughly exhausted himself at this point. He passed out rather quickly and Alfred elected to let him sleep it off. He wandered back to the living room and began making a giant pile of empty beer bottles, determining to grab a few trash bags and throw them out before Arthur woke up.

It didn't work out like that though.

He ended up with his butt on the couch and a fullsize large pepperoni pizza. It was around five in the afternoon and he texted his mom to let her know where he was. The school hadn't noticed his absence at all and he filed that away for future use. Luckily, Matthew had noticed him with Arthur in the parking lot and managed to shut Gilbert up before he could ruin it.

Arthur shuffled into the room, making Alfred smile slightly. The smell of the pizza must have woken him.

"You can go back to bed," Alfred told him because he was an unholy sight to be behold. His hair was even crazier than normal and he had dark circles under his eyes.

He didn't say anything, only grunted. Settling beside Alfred on the couch and grabbing himself a piece. "There's still crap on the floor."

"I did shove it into easily pick-up-able piles though," Alfred pointed out, giving into the desire to ruffle Arthur's hair again. He didn't even receive a dirty look, perhaps Arthur wasn't awake enough yet.

"Oh how I've missed you," Arthur said sarcastically, but Alfred's heart still skipped a beat. "Are you staying over?"

"Over night?" Alfred asked carefully.

"Sure, you don't have school tomorrow. I need your car to go look for jobs anyway."

"We're not doing that tonight," Alfred said. "You may not have looked at yourself in the mirror recently, but-

"But? Do tell."

Alfred wrinkled his nose. "You're goddamn gorgeous."

"You know I like this new thing of yours. Turning insults into compliments. Keep it up."

Alfred grinned, deciding Arthur was in a surprisingly good mood for being hungover. "You smell so bad that nobody will bother us."

"And the enjoyment ends," Arthur reached for another piece, shifting around to face him. "If I really smell so bad to you, why are you here?"

Alfred snorted. "Dog's breath smells bad too. Doesn't keep me from loving dogs."

"Loving?"

Alfred froze, his cheeks turning brilliant red. "Dogs, Arthur. Not... that wasn't supposed to be directly-

"Oh give over, Alfred. I'm joking. It is a rare occurrence, but you should be able to recognize it all the same."

Alfred punched him lightly in the shoulder. "You're killing me, Kirkland."

"One day at a time," Arthur said, his expression growing a little more serious.

He reached for his third slice of pizza, and Alfred said, "You better not puke later."

Arthur swallowed roughly, "Just for that," He waved a finger in the air. "I'll be having six pieces instead of five."

And he was true to his word. A shock had run from Alfred's head to his toes when he felt Arthur lean against him, shoving the pizza box away. He was stuffed and sort of irritable and sort of content all at the same time. Alfred looked down at him, illuminated only by the light of the television. He was pushing a hand against his stomach experimentally, obviously unaware that he was being watched. The pressure caused him to burp, stifling it with his fist.

He caught Alfred's eye and blushed.

Alfred couldn't help but laugh. "You are without a doubt my favorite person, Arthur Kirkland."

"Shut up," Arthur grumbled, edging closer into him. "Move your arm, moron."

Alfred did and his heart nearly stopped when Arthur dropped his head in Alfred's lap, throwing his feet up on the couch as well. Utterly sprawled and taking up as much room as possible. He'd never known Arthur to be this... affectionate wasn't the right word. No, Arthur just never seemed to like being touched. Quite abruptly, things changed. When he stroked through Arthur's hair again, careful to make it look absentminded, Arthur barely responded at all, his eyes glued to the television.

Huh. Strange.

When Arthur fell asleep in his lap, he knew he wasn't going anywhere. His mother and brother could be watching the season finale of Once Upon a Time and he would stay right where he was. Hell, a tornado could be wiping out his house right now and he'd probably still sit here. It was too early for him to go to sleep, and the television no longer held his interest. Hesitantly, Alfred returned to stroking Arthur's head.

Things should go back to normal now. He would hang out at Arthur's every day after school. They would scour the newspapers and the job websites for postings. But things wouldn't be normal. For one, he knew Arthur reciprocated. That they really were friends. Arthur thought of him as a friend, his best friend, and that made Alfred feel nearly dizzy with happiness.

He hadn't realized how much it would mean to know something like that. It made him all the more confident that they could work things out. Arthur was out of a job not for the first time, but it was okay. They would find him another one.

Arthur rolled over in his sleep, so that his face was mashed against Alfred's side. His black t-shirt slipped up, showing his stomach was extended a little from all that pizza. Alfred swallowed, trying to not to let the strange adorableness of it all overwhelm him. Yes, frankly, it was only getting worse.

He liked Arthur. He really liked Arthur. He wanted to make Arthur happy again. He wanted to make Arthur laugh. He wanted Arthur to know that he wasn't just his favorite person, but the most important person.

Alfred hesitated. Really he would be absolutely screwed for this if Arthur woke up, but... Biting the bullet, he leant down and brushed his lips to the top of Arthur's head. He pulled back his heart pounding wildly. All at once, he felt like he'd entered new territory. He wondered how long he could keep this a secret. Now that they were admittedly friends, he was petrified of ruining that.

"Goddamn you, Kirkland," He muttered. "Always causing me to do things I wouldn't expect."

0 0 0

The next morning he woke up to find Arthur staring at him, still sprawled in his lap.

"Comfortable?" Alfred joked, making like he would shove Arthur onto the floor.

Arthur growled at him. "Stop it. I don't want to move yet."

"Fair enough," Alfred laid his head back against the couch cushions. He felt Arthur sigh on top of him.

"I really don't want to do this again, Alfred," he admitted, sounding worn out.

"I know," Alfred smiled sadly, flicking his fingers through Arthur's hair again. "Maybe we can try somewhere more partial to your uh... style?"

"What do you mean?" Arthur squinted at him suspiciously.

"You know, somewhere like Spencer's or Hot Topic or a clothing store. They'd probably let you wear your everyday clothes."

"Hmm," Arthur nodded. "We can try. You know where I'd like to work?"

"Where?"

"The cookie cake store at the mall."

Alfred blinked in surprise. "The cookie cake store? That sounds like somewhere _I_ want to work."

"Exactly," Arthur said.

And Alfred could only stare at him for a long moment.

"I remember seeing that they were hiring a few weeks ago. We could check." Arthur pushed on, his cheeks beginning to redden.

Alfred finally grinned. "You know your efforts are valiant, but frankly I was getting used to not having a job anymore."

"Lazyass," Arthur grumbled, shoving at him. "Come on. We'll at least check. That's only fair."

"How is that only fair?" Alfred laughed. "You're the one who's got to put food on the table. I live at home."

"And god I resent you for that." Arthur retorted in what could almost be called a good natured tone.

Alfred beamed, twisting his fingers through Arthur's hair again and noticing that Arthur didn't pull away. "Alright, later. First, I'm raiding your frozen french toast sticks. Move your ass."

"You're raiding them only if you plan on making me breakfast."

"Deal, you little imp. You drive a hard bargain."

"Imp?" Arthur said flatly and before he could start ranting Alfred pushed him off onto the floor. "I'm injured, you twat!" He squawked sounding particularly British today.

Alfred rolled his eyes as he swung open the freezer. "Not injured enough. You're still speaking."

"If it weren't for these, I would punch you." Arthur held up his splinted fingers miserably as he joined Alfred in the kitchen. Alfred frowned, tracing the metal with his thumb.

"Yeah, that'll probably be at least another four weeks before it's fully healed. How's your foot?"

"Better," Arthur flexed it for him, and Alfred smiled.

"Good. How many toast sticks?"

"Just make the lot," Arthur said, running the fingers of his good hand through his hair. "I'm going to take a shower. Do you need one?"

"I think I'm alright."

Later they were out and walking through the mall, scouring for help wanted signs. Arthur didn't seem to be paying a terrible amount of attention, so Alfred ended up making note of most of the places. Arthur was dressed provocatively today, perhaps more so than usual. He had on a grey t-shirt with a crazy detailed print of a skeleton head and hand devouring what looked like a woman with barely any clothes on. Eat the Rich was written in 20's style lettering around it. Arthur's nails were black and the fingers that weren't broken were bejeweled in a fascinating set of rings. Some simple black bands and others with graphic depictions of skeletons and eyeballs.

His jeans too bore more than their fair share of holes causing Alfred to stare at him when he could see the edge of Arthur's red boxers through them. His eyeliner was dark today, so that his eyes popped like live coals. He was a special kind of dangerous that made mall cops and parents alike perk up. But Alfred only found his fashion alluring, because beneath it all, he was beginning to suspect Arthur was a giant softie.

It happened when they were standing in Hallmark and Alfred was looking for a card. (He'd only just remembered Kiku's birthday was in a few days.) After a couple minutes, he'd landed on the perfect one with a set of cartoon cats that meowed when you opened it. He looked up to show Arthur, but Arthur was nowhere in sight.

Wandering through the shelves and shelves of trinkets, he spotted the familiar tuft of blonde hair in the back. When he rounded the corner, he just barely stopped himself from calling out. And it was worth it. Arthur was standing in the beanie baby section at the back of the store, quite alone. He was carefully going by each of the stacks of animals and patting them on their heads. Alfred heard him murmuring to them, although he couldn't make out what he was saying.

Taking several steps back, Alfred called out, "Arthur, where are you? I found the card. Come look."

Arthur emerged from the beanie babies with a slightly flushed face, but Alfred knew it would have been much worse if Arthur had caught him staring before. It turned out that Arthur very much liked the cat card and Alfred made a mental note for the future. Next, they went into a punk clothing store. Arthur hadn't seemed very interested, but Alfred felt it was his only chance to go in a place like this without his friends laughing.

Of course, it was the one place in the mall where all the shop attendants ignored _him_ and focused their efforts on Arthur. Rather than influence, it irritated Arthur who dragged him to the back of the store with all the clearance items. Having ascertained that they were in fact poor, most of the shop people left them alone then. And that's when Arthur started to have fun.

He began pulling out various shirts and tank tops, shoving them into Alfred's arms as they went. "Are you buying these?" Alfred asked incredulously as Arthur added a plaid shirt with a rose dripping blood on the back.

"No, they're your size, imbecile. Go try that lot on. I think I saw something over here."

Alfred's eyes widened. But then again, what could it hurt?

He came out in a baggy tank top with an old fashioned Indian chieftain headdress on it. It was actually pretty damn cool. His arms were still slightly toned from his summer fitness regime. The tank did a decent job showing them off.

"Arthur, what do you think?" He called, getting Arthur to stop going through the clearance jewelry.

Arthur turned around, grumbling at him. His green eyes flittered upwards and for just a minute Alfred would have killed to know what was going through his mind.

"That's... a lot baggier than I had expected." Arthur released a long breath, scratching the back of his neck. His eyes glittered mischievously. "Try it with these."

Alfred stared at the pair of skin tight jeans Arthur had just handed to him. "There's no way I can fit into those. They're like an eight year old girl's size."

"Want to know what my size is?" Arthur smirked, and Alfred's heart started to gallop. God, did he want to know.

Arthur pulled out an even smaller pair from the wrack, causing Alfred's mind to literally spin. "What? You don't have any jeans like that. There's no way that would fit." Before he knew it the challenge was out of his mouth, and he knew that Arthur would accept it.

Arthur rolled his eyes, pushing him aside to enter the dressing room. While he waited, Alfred amused himself with the different bits of jewelry. He found a set of earrings that were pairs of white and pink rabbit ears. Glancing back to assure himself that Arthur was still in the changing room, he hurried to the front to make his purchase.

He came back just in time to hear Arthur say. "...I may have miscalculated my size a little bit."

"What's that?" Alfred challenged.

"Don't laugh," Arthur's muffled voice carried over the door. "I did fit in them, but I'll grab another size."

When he stepped out, Alfred's mind was so far away from laughing. Arthur was right. These pants were much too small for him. They hugged so tightly he wasn't exactly walking with full mobility. Every curve in his legs was visible. It was easy to spot where his underwear began too. Alfred tried not to look, but his eyes were drawn irresistibly to Arthur's crotch. He might as well not have been wearing any pants at all.

Arthur scowled at him. "What?" He growled testily. "I judged wrong. I'm blaming this on all your pizza."

Alfred shook his head, tearing his eyes away. "Are you sure it was just pizza?" He managed and Arthur slapped him.

Nah, if anything, Arthur could stand to gain some weight. Whoever those pants were supposed to fit must have been amazingly small. As they left, Arthur was grumbling about his circulation, rubbing at his legs. It had been awhile, so Alfred gave into Arthur's request for a smoking break. They sat out on a bench outside the mall.

Now was as good a time as ever.

"I got you something," Alfred said, trying not to let the nervousness creep into his voice. He had no idea how Arthur would react.

"You got me something?" Arthur repeated like it was a non-sequitur.

"Sure," Alfred smiled, driving his hand into his pocket and pulling out the bag. "Don't bite my head off, okay?"

"Why did you get me something?" Arthur asked blankly.

"Because I wanted to." Alfred shrugged, feeling his face start to redden. "It's not weird for friends to get each other things, Arthur."

"Oh," Arthur said, taking a long drag of his cigarette. He actually sounded embarrassed, like he hadn't been privy to this bit of information. "Well, what is it?"

Alfred pressed the bag into his hand. "Why don't you find out?"

Arthur seemed simultaneously angry with him for dragging it out and reluctantly curious. He stuck his hand into the bag without looking, cigarette clamped between his teeth. "Jewelry?" he asked Alfred in surprise.

Alfred shrugged. "Pull it out."

The shiny bunny ears caught the light, smaller than a dime. Alfred looked again at the horde of rings and studs in Arthur's cartilage. They wouldn't be too noticeable, so if he was embarrassed of their shape most people wouldn't see them.

"Alfred," Arthur whispered, tracing one of them with his fingertips. "They're very nice. I don't... no one's ever given me a present before."

Alfred stared. "No one? Not even for your birthday?"

"I... I'm not even sure when my real birthday is," Arthur said tiredly. He was still staring at the earrings with some unreadable expression on his face. Carefully, he reached up and began removing two of his studs, one from each ear. Then he slipped the new earrings on. "How do they look?" he asked, rubbing absently at one of them with his index finger.

"Awesome," Alfred beamed, but the smile melted quickly off his face. "You really didn't celebrate your birthday when you were a kid? What about Christmas?"

Arthur bit his lip, looking reluctant if not all out hostile to talk about it. He lit himself another cigarette, wearily. "No, Alfred, we didn't celebrate anything. I... this is the first present I can remember receiving."

Alfred scowled, "Well, if I knew that, I would have gotten you something much better. Come on. We're going back inside."

"No, Alfred, it's... it's perfect. Really." Arthur said insistently. "I'm surprised you even thought about it. What made you... what made you want to?"

"What made me want to?" Alfred laughed. "Have you forgotten that we just formally officiated our friendship last night? I was so happy to see you again. I'm always happy to see you. I saw the earrings and I thought of you. I had to get them. Don't you ever see things and think of people?"

Arthur scowled. "Only awful things."

"Well, maybe I'll change that." Alfred quipped. "Hurry up with that cigarette. There's somewhere I want to go."

He dragged Arthur with him to the cookie cake store last of all. And bought him a huge slice. Arthur blinked, "Aren't you going to get yourself one?"

"In a minute," Alfred pulled him impatiently to a table in the very back of the food court where they wouldn't be overheard. Once there, he turned and presented the slice to Arthur with a flourish. "Happy Birthdays, Arthur. For one to twenty-four and many more!"

He started to sing, and Arthur was horrified. Alfred couldn't have picked a better way to traumatize him. Apparently, all that was needed to topple the big bad punk was a little mall serenade. Who would have thought? Arthur's expression was such a keeper that Alfred knew he would remember it until the day he died. It seemed he had unwittingly landed on one of Arthur's real fears. Arthur had no idea know what to do with positive attention.

After he had finished singing, Arthur was on the verge of saying something nasty to resurrect his broken pride. Punks like him didn't celebrate their birthdays with cookie cake. Delinquents like him didn't receive bunny earrings as gifts. Misfits like he was most certainly did not get made such a pleasant spectacle of. It was all wrong! But before Arthur could say a single word, Alfred deftly picked up the cookie cake slice and shoved a huge chunk of it into his mouth.

"It'll take some getting used," Alfred informed him matter-o-factly. "But you won't be ignored anymore, Arthur. I'm going to get a slice of cookie cake before you throttle me." He darted away before he could hear the response. After purchasing his slice and soda, he slinked skittishly back.

Arthur was calmly picking apart his cookie cake with long fingers. "Oh stop being an idiot," he finally snapped, when Alfred continued to look at him like he was a ticking time bomb. "I can't very well throttle the only person who's attempted to celebrate my birthday in 24 years. Even if he is an abominable moron."

Alfred grinned, taking a swig of his soda. "At your service."

"What would I do without you?" Arthur asked, but his sarcasm was a little too heavy.

Alfred smiled down at his plate and then at Arthur's empty one. "Geez, I don't know. You might be able to fit into those pants."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "What did you say?"

Alfred smirked. "I think you heard what I said."

"No, I really didn't. Why don't you come a bit closer?"

"No, Arthur!" Alfred tried to dodge his hand which was covered in blue icing, but it was too late and Arthur smeared it all over his cheek. Bringing his finger back to his mouth to lick the rest off.

"For shame, it seems you have something on your face."

"Arthur, you little fucker, that stuff stains." Moving quickly he managed to slash a line of red icing down the bridge of Arthur's nose. "Ha, take that Rudolph."

"Oh, you really shouldn't have," Arthur said and his green eyes glowed dangerously. He swiped some of the red icing from Alfred's plate and they both reached forward while leaning their heads back. Alfred managed to gunk some in his eyebrows, but Arthur had him beat with a real smasher to the chin.

"Call it a draw," Alfred grumbled, feeling the icing harden strangely against his face.

"I suppose we must," Arthur sighed overdramatically, getting to his feet. "Let's go wash up."

As Alfred stood and began walking, he scowled to notice Arthur had grabbed the rest of _his_ slice of cookie. "Hey give that back!"

"Winner takes all." Arthur said through a mouthful as they entered the men's restroom.

"Um, it was a _fucking draw_. Give it back!"

"No," Arthur dodged his hand. Catching sight of their faces in the mirror, he laughed, causing Alfred to stumble to a halt. His real laughter, warm and rich, meshed with his real smile, elusive and crooked and gentle. "It's..." Arthur fumbled for another excuse. "It's my birthday!" He exclaimed. "Therefore this," he raised up the piece, "is mine."

"Fine, it's yours." Alfred gave in, thinking he would buy Arthur a million cookie cakes if it would get him to smile and laugh like that. "Happy Birthday, you greedy fuckjob."

Arthur grinned, shoving the last bit into his mouth and tossing the plate into the garbage. "What was that last part? I don't believe I heard you correctly."

Alfred shook his head, leaning over the sink. "Happy Birthday... birthday boy."


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey all!**

 **Thanks so much for the support this story has received so far. I feel like I can never thank you guys enough, even if you might be sick of hearing it. ;)**

 **I have been working on this story a lot recently and plan for it to be around 12 chapters. All your reviews and comments have definitely inspired me to keep up with this one.**

 **Hope you all are having lovely summers,**

 **doze**

* * *

"You look fine," Alfred jingled his keys impatiently by the door. "Do you have your gum? I'm limiting you to five cigarettes tonight, and they all have to be outside. My mom will roast you and serve you for dinner if you so much as pull out a pack indoors."

Arthur scowled, holding up his nicotine gum and gesturing at his chest. "Are you sure this is okay?"

"Arthur, it's a Ramones t-shirt. My mom isn't a puritan. Come on."

Arthur turned away, playing with the chain attached to his jeans. "Should I take this off?"

Despite himself, Alfred nearly laughed. There was a miscellaneous pile of things Arthur deemed too radical for Alfred's house already on the table. Gone were his lip and eyebrow piercings and the majority of the shiny studs in his ears. He was still wearing eyeliner, but no nail polish. He was wearing converse instead of combat boots. His jeans were tight, but definitely not his tightest.

Alfred sighed. "Whatever you want, Arthur. We're already late."

Arthur hesitated, before removing the chain as well. Alfred caught him glancing nervously at his reflection in the mirror, touching the corner of his eye.

"Nope, you're not taking that off. It's too late now." Alfred grabbed Arthur by the wrist and began towing him towards the door.

"It would only take a second," Arthur squawked at him, and Alfred spun him around so that they were nearly nose to nose.

"What makes you think she'll like you any better if you dress differently?"

Arthur flushed brilliantly, but replied, tongue-in-cheek. "Common sense."

Alfred snorted in exasperation. "Why do you want to impress her?"

Arthur blinked and then looked away scowling. "I don't want to embarrass you. Is that too far out of my character for you to conceive? I'm not a jerk."

Alfred exhaled, his eyes softening. "I know that. I told you that. Jeez, Arthur, I like you just the way you are. And you like wearing eyeliner and earrings. My mom can get over that."

Arthur only rolled his eyes, but allowed himself to be pulled outside. He smoked heavily in the car, forgetting for the thousandth time to roll down the window. It was much too late anyway. The car already smelled so strongly of smoke that Alfred was resigned to driving it for the rest of his life. He couldn't make any money trying to sell it now.

His mother had reminded him about her invitation to have Arthur over after she'd found out that they'd made up. Alfred was usually fine with having his friends over. They played videogames and watched movies, sometimes tossed a ball around. He couldn't envision doing any of these things with Arthur. Well, maybe the movies. Pizza and random news stations seemed to be their thing.

He wasn't exactly worried what his mother would think of Arthur. She'd about seen him at his worst after he'd clocked Alfred out in the restaurant and gotten arrested. Alfred just didn't understand why she insisted on Arthur coming over. He did in fact have other friends, and his mother had never been so insistent about him bringing _them_ over.

Arthur's reaction, on the other hand, was by far the strangest. He'd thought he would have to convince Arthur to come. It would be an unwelcome break in their usual routine of driving around town looking for jobs and then eating cheap pizza until the television fuzzed out. But Arthur had immediately agreed, and since then he'd been fretting about it.

The Ramones shirt was new. He'd gone out and bought a new shirt for the occasion. One without any holes or offensive slogans. It wasn't a button-up by any means, but it was as close as Arthur got to one these days. His belt was plain black as well. He'd gone without the studs, and now he'd removed most of his jewelry. Alfred was beginning to wonder if Arthur and his mother knew something he didn't.

Before they'd even pulled into the driveway, Arthur had stubbed out his cigarette. Rummaging around in his pockets, he pulled out an actual bottle of mouthspray. Just like in the movies. Instead of spraying it, he unscrewed the lid and dumped about half of it in his mouth, swishing it around, before swallowing.

"Ugh, are you supposed to swallow that?" Alfred asked, wrinkling his nose.

Arthur ignored him, shoving four tabs of nicotine gum in his mouth. He turned to Alfred, biting the inside of his cheek. "My shirt..."

"I told you it was fine, Arthur." Alfred rolled his eyes and started to get out of the car.

"No," Arthur grabbed him by the arm. "Does it smell?"

Alfred sighed. "I don't see why it matters. Anybody with a nose in a matter of miles can tell you're a smoker." Nonetheless, he felt a guilty pang in his chest when he saw Arthur's expression falter. "Get out of the car, and I'll smell it."

So there he was smelling Arthur's shirt in the driveway under the basketball hoop when his brother opened the front door.

"It's not too bad," Alfred told him, which was sort of a lie. His breath still stunk like tobacco too, but Alfred wasn't about to make him self-conscious over it.

"Al?"

Alfred spun around. "Oh hey Mattie. Arthur. You've already met."

Arthur nodded stiffly, crossing his arms.

"Good to see you again," Matthew said, sounding uncertain. "Mom's about to set the table. Come on in."

Alfred lead the way with Arthur trailing behind him. As they stepped in the front door, Alfred ditched his light jacket on a nearby hook, kicking off his shoes in the traditional pile. "You can put your shoes here," he explained to Arthur, who wasn't paying attention at all.

Matthew had returned to the kitchen, and Alfred could hear him and his mom arguing over the salad dressing. Their big slobbery golden retriever had just sighted Arthur and was already bounding through the foyer.

"Heya, Tank," Alfred knelt down to wrestle with him, earning himself a flurry of dog hair in the face. "Wanna say hi to Artie, huh? Say hi to Artie!" Alfred let go of the dog's collar and it went bouncing over like a joyful cotton ball to Arthur.

"Hi Tank," Arthur said quietly, petting the dog gently on the head. A shiver traveled all the way down Tank's spine for the little bit of contact, and he barked excitably, causing Arthur to flinch.

"Get outta here, goofy," Alfred grabbed Tank's collar and pushed him towards the kitchen. "Alright, why don't you kick off your shoes? And I'll, uh, show you around I guess."

Arthur was still looking distracted. His eyes were traveling over all the pictures hung up in their hallway. The fingers of his right hand scratching dangerously close to the scarred zone around his left wrist.

"Hey, we can admire those embarrassing pictures of my face later," Alfred cringed, taking Arthur by the arm. "Come on. I'll show you my room."

By the time they'd reached his room, Alfred knew something was wrong. "What's the matter, Arthur?" He asked softly, stopping outside his door.

"Nothing," Arthur scowled at him, but it did nothing to relieve the air of discomfort he was giving off. Alfred was about to push the matter, but then it occurred to him that Arthur had probably never been to a friend's house before. At least not this way. It struck Alfred that Arthur was trying really hard not to mess this up.

Alfred smiled at him warmly. "Don't stress about this. Soon enough we'll be on the couch and I'll be showing you why Netflix is a worthy investment. This is my room."

As soon as he opened the door, he rolled his eyes to find Hero fast asleep on his pillow. "Stupid cat." He muttered. "How'd'ja even get up there? You're gettin' so fat." He collapsed on the bed, giving Hero a scratch between the ears. The large cat rumbled contentedly, kneading its paws into Alfred's pillow case. Arthur had quietly entered the room behind him.

It surprised Alfred to see the interest in his eyes. He touched some of the old action figures on Alfred's dresser. Glancing over the old sports trophies on his shelves. Except for the few graphic novels piled on the desk there were only a horde of science textbooks and interactive space pop-ups. There was also a rather embarrassing body pillow of an anime girl by his Xbox that Arthur seemed to be trying to puzzle out.

Alfred thanked God that he still hid his doujinshi from his mom. It was safely under his bed where Arthur wouldn't see it.

After Arthur had walked around in a manner that seemed like he thought everything was breakable, he settled quietly next to Alfred. His eyes fell on the cat.

"You like cats?" Alfred asked because Arthur had seemed a little thrown by the bouncing dynamite of affection that was Tank.

"I don't know. We never had one." Arthur said.

Alfred noticed his fingers twitch in his lap and he smiled. "Well, it so happens that they're very calming." He slipped his hands underneath Hero and lifted him into his lap. Hero sniffed interestedly in Arthur's direction. "You wanna say hi to Artie?" Alfred asked the cat in a low voice. "He's a nice guy. I know you can tell." The cat rumbled on top of him like a motor starting up. "See he's purring. He likes you. Why don't you pet him?"

Arthur hesitated, but then laid his hand on top of the cat's head, gently stroking downwards. Hero was having none of that weak sauce petting, and butted Arthur's hand again, searching for more. Arthur inhaled in surprise, but then began petting him with more vigor in all his favorite places. Alfred laughed when Hero ditched him for Arthur's lap.

"You like Artie, don't you?" He crooned, leaning over so that his shoulder was pressed against Arthur's, petting Hero too. "I know he's pretty great. I'm never gonna get you off of Artie now, am I?" The cat seemed to suck all of the tension from Arthur's shoulders.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Arthur asked, sounding much calmer now, twisting his fingers through Hero's fur.

Alfred blinked. "What?"

"Artie."

A blush tinged his cheeks red. Had he been saying that out loud? Alfred shrugged. "Uh, I don't know. I was talking to the animals. Don't judge me!"

Arthur actually chuckled. "It was just strange. I don't mind it. Coming from you."

Alfred glanced at him uncertainly. His green eyes were softer now, too.

"Do you think of me like one of your animals?" Arthur asked and it had to be the strangest question Alfred had ever heard from him.

"Not particularly," he said.

Arthur snorted. "Sorry. I don't know... You just acted like I was supposed to be here. Like they were."

Alfred felt his heart stutter step as Arthur looked up at him again. He was suddenly painfully aware that their legs were touching and that their shoulders were pressed together. "Arthur, I-"

"Dinner's ready!" Matthew's rowdy call interrupted them.

Alfred scowled while Arthur tried valiantly to get the cat hair off his clothes. "You look great," he reassured him.

0 0 0

The dinner table was stocked tonight. Alfred loved it when he or Matthew had friends over because his mother considered it a matter of pride to make the best dinner possible. Arthur's thick eyebrows disappeared into his fringe. Alfred actually heard his stomach rumble, and he laughed. Who knew how long it had been since Arthur last experienced a laden table before?

His mom puffed up noticeably at their expressions, all three of them. Matthew was already slobbering over the bread rolls. She came around the table in her apron, holding out her hand. "It's nice to properly meet you, Arthur. I've been hearing so much from Alfred."

Arthur took her hand formally, looking as stiff as a tree trunk. "Thank you, Mrs... Miss..." He faltered glancing at Alfred in panic. She was no longer with Alfred's father.

Alfred grinned good-naturedly. "Artie," he said purposefully, "can call you Rachel, right ma?"

"He can, but you can't." She pinched Alfred's nose and he shook her off.

"Well, are we gunna eat?" Alfred whined and she waved at the table.

"Fine. I won't keep you boys any longer. What do you want to drink?" She took their choices and disappeared into the kitchen again. Alfred and Matthew immediately started up a pass the dish around the circle. Arthur was hesitant at first, but at an encouraging smile from Alfred he filled every spot on his plate.

There were some awkward lulls in the dinner conversation, particularly when his mother had asked Arthur about college and he had to admit he'd dropped out for the semester. Alfred was beginning to suspect it wasn't the first time that Arthur had started college and then dropped out. His mother was opening up new avenues of inquiry into Arthur's life that he'd been afraid to touch before.

He learned that Arthur had been born in Manchester and that his family had moved here when he was fifteen. His father was a farmer in one of the outlying counties who had seen more opportunity for growing his particular crop in America. He learned Arthur's brothers' names: Murtagh, Henry, James, and Peter. Although, Arthur seemed to intentionally fudge over where they were now. Making a vague gesture that they were no longer around the area and that they'd all seen the inside of various rehab centers more than once.

Alfred could tell that his mother wanted to ask Arthur about his particular past, but she was tactful and compassionate enough not to trail blaze. For that he was thankful. She did ask Arthur about the job search, though. And he admitted that it wasn't going very well.

"I don't know, anymore really." Arthur picked over his third helpings, his elbow just brushing Alfred's. "I don't have the luxury of being picky anymore. I'll do just about anything that pays now."

"The cookie cake store is no longer hiring," Alfred chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. He had noticed the hardening of Arthur's eyes when she asked. The way his fork was massacring the chicken rather than playing with it.

"Your worst nightmare, I'm sure," Matthew muttered, causing him to get a kick under the table.

Arthur snorted. He carefully released his iron grip on the fork, stretching his fingers out slowly.

Alfred's mom cocked her head. "What kind of job would you want to have, Arthur?"

"Anything," Arthur said gruffly, like he hadn't already made that clear. Instantly, his death grip on the fork resurfaced. The subject was making him uncomfortable, and Alfred wished his mother would drop it. Arthur had been open all evening, but the matter of his bank account was a sensitive one.

"Well, I'm sure if you look around a bit, you can find something you like. Think a little bigger." She began. "If you could have any job you wanted-"

Arthur actually interrupted, pushing his plate away. He'd been polite and it was an unpleasant turn. "Listen," he snarled, and then flinched at his own sharpness. He fixed his eyes purposefully on a spot of tablecloth. "I haven't got the time to play make believe. The second I find a job, the next second I'll lose it. It's worked that way for going on eight years. My bank account is a mathematician's joke. The day I can imagine having any job I want is the day the nation's been destroyed by a nuclear apocalypse. People like me don't get lucky! If I kept waiting for a job I actually wanted to come along, I'd be fucking- I'm sorry." He interrupted himself, obviously trying to temper his angry tone. He exhaled loudly. His hands were shaking and he looked suddenly frazzled. "Wh-where are my cigarettes? I need a smoke. Alfred, is there a place I can...?"

"Back porch," Alfred directed him calmly. "Take your time."

"Thanks," he grunted unceremoniously and was gone without another word. Alfred had recognized the tell tale signs. Arthur's hands had been clenched into fists and his foot had started beating the ground erratically. He was a lot better. The counseling sessions he despised so much were actually doing him some good dealing with his temper. Probation, while not ideal, had its benefits.

The table was silent in the wake of Arthur's outburst. Alfred eclipsed the food off of Arthur's deserted plate onto his, deciding to make the most of it. His mom and Matthew didn't seem to know what to say.

"I should have said something," Alfred said between bites. "but I figured it was obvious after he decked me at McD's. He has an anger problem, or as I like to say a Hulk complex."

"Hulk complex?" Matthew asked incredulously.

Alfred nodded. "He takes himself too seriously. He's a regular Bruce Banner."

His mom bit her lip. "I didn't mean to upset him, Alfie. But he seems so hopeless. Everything I asked about- his family, his schooling, his life in England- was negative after negative. I at least hoped he would have a bright idea for the future."

Alfred worked to keep his face expressionless, refusing to admit that she'd stricken a chord. Talking with Arthur for any length of time was bound to be soul-sucking. Arthur lived only in the present. He didn't have any concept of something beyond his crappy apartment. Alfred had asked in a variety of tactful ways, but Arthur genuinely didn't seem to have any ambition. No job he wanted. No place he wanted to go. No aspirations. College was the only thing that might possibly count, and he'd dropped out because of another hit to his criminal record.

Also, Arthur had no concept of permanency. He shied away from talking about hanging out with Alfred in the future, like he didn't believe Alfred would be there. His initial refusal to acknowledge Alfred's kind words hadn't been a force of his stubborn will. He genuinely didn't believe that Alfred meant what he said. Alfred suspected that he still didn't believe it, but that he pretended because he liked what he heard. The nice things Alfred said weren't actually true, but they were easy on the ears. They made the present a better place, and Arthur was only concerned (if it could be called that) with the present. Therefore, Arthur when pushed to the brink eventually came back asking for the nice words, knowing that it would flatter Alfred and fulfill his desire to hear them.

But they weren't true. Alfred highly doubted Arthur believed they were true.

Arthur lived in the repetitive twilight of the present. He'd rather forget his past. Alfred knew enough to guess that it had been awful. And he didn't dare imagine his future. Because it could be worse.

"Well, you weren't kidding about one thing," Matthew muttered, breaking him away from his thoughts with a rueful grin. "The guy smells like a tobacco plantation on fire."

Alfred had to bite back an angry retort, thinking of Arthur asking about his t-shirt on the ride over for the thousandth time. He just sighed. "I asked him to cut back for tonight. He's trying."

"Does he smoke outside at home?" His mom asked.

Alfred had to resist the urge to snort. "Yeah, sure."

"That's not very convincing, Alfred. It can't be healthy for you to be around all that smoke all the time."

"No, it can't be," Alfred agreed candidly. "But they're my lungs and I'll do what I want with 'em."

"Alfred, don't take this the wrong way," Matthew suddenly said. "He's a nice enough guy. I'm not saying anything like that. But he never talks about anything good. He always seems depressed. Doesn't that get you down?"

Alfred exhaled, dropping his chin on his hands. "Look, Art's my friend, and I feel bad for him. But he's funny and he's kind. He can say all he wants that he has no good traits, but he has boatloads of them. In spite of everything. If that's not impressive, I don't know what is. All I know is that when I'm with him, neither of us have to worry about anything. And that's a nice change."

He stood up then, stretching. "Thanks for dinner, ma. I'm going to go talk with him. I'm sure he feels bad."

"This is just your way of getting out of the dishes," Matthew's accusing voice followed him down the hall, making him laugh.

Alfred found Arthur on the back porch nearly ripping his hair out. All his pockets were inside out. His green eyes were wide with some kind of manic frenzy.

"I can't find my lighter," was the first thing he said. "I can't find it. I always carry it with me. I don't-"

"Hey," Alfred interrupted him, gently pulling his hands apart from each other. The skin on his wrists was turning an ugly pink color and beginning to bruise from his picking at it. "Why didn't you come back inside and find me? It probably fell out in my car. You're not wearing your regular tights. Things can slip out." He teased gently, tucking in Arthur's pockets.

Arthur scowled, still jittery. "I didn't want to interrupt. I've gone and worn out my welcome."

"You haven't." Alfred snorted. "You won't ever, if I'm around to say anything about it. I promise she isn't mad at you. She understands."

"You think it's in your car?" Arthur asked him desperately.

"If it isn't, we'll swing by Quik Trip and get you another pack of 'em, alright? Come on." They found it underneath Arthur's seat, and Alfred heard him mutter, "Last time I ever wear these jeans." His hands were shaking too much for him to get the light, so Alfred did it for him out on the driveway. The cool fall air ruffled their hair and made them shiver, only in short sleeves. Arthur smoked the first one so fast it felt like only a matter of seconds before he was starting the next. They sat on the hood of Alfred's car in silence, with no light but the end of Arthur's cigarette and the streetlamps.

"You said five, correct?" Arthur asked later somewhere around his fourth one. His voice was deeper and slower now.

"I did," Alfred smiled at him in the dark. "I didn't think you'd smoke them all at once, though."

"I know it's a terrible habit." Arthur said seriously. "And my shirt's ruined now."

Alfred laughed. "Ah, the death of the Ramones shirt, we'll be talking about it for centuries."

"You don't understand," Arthur said somewhat miserably. "I bought it and wrapped it in fucking plastic to keep this from happening. I wasn't going to smoke at all tonight. I almost left my lighter at home, too. But I... But damn, I'm glad I didn't."

Alfred's eyebrows disappeared in his fringe. "You did all that for a dinner with my mom and brother?"

"It's not like anything else important is happening the rest of this year," Arthur said nonchalantly, but Alfred was honestly shocked.

"Arthur," He said, "Can I just make note of this for future generations? Did you just say that I'm important in your life?"

"Ugh, you have an awful tendency to read into the things I say," Arthur lit his fifth cigarette with a mock disgusted face. "God, you're probably the least important thing in my life. Less so than the gum on my shoe."

"Oh thanks," Alfred rolled his eyes. "Compared to that you're like a god on the importance list of my life. Right up there with bunny ears and cookie cake." He felt Arthur blush more than saw it in the darkness.

"Alfred," Arthur said softly some minutes later.

"Hmm?"

"Are you staying around here for college?"

Alfred blinked in surprise. The jury had been out on that question for nearly as long as he'd been alive. He was a momma's boy at heart, but an adventurer all the same. College in New York or London or Hong Kong, for crying out loud. Imagine it! But then there was college in the hay-heap Midwest where he'd lived all his life. Monotonous. Boring even.

He met Arthur's eyes. You couldn't tell what color they were in the darkness, but they reflected the streetlamps and shone. A breeze shot by causing Alfred to shiver again. Maybe he was hallucinating. Just hallucinating Arthur's hopeful expression.

All at once, the question was answered.

Alfred laughed. "Duh."

He felt Arthur knock his shoulder and laugh. For no good reason it seemed.

"I've trapped you then," Arthur said mockingly, but there was real exuberance in his tone. A barrel full of smoke hit Alfred in the face.

"Not if you keep fucking doing that, you haven't." He shoved Arthur off the hood of the car, coughing into his elbow. "And who said you have anything to do with it? I just couldn't stand moving somewhere without an awesome burger joint."

"I'm better than a burger joint," Arthur said, causing Alfred to raise his eyebrows.

"That's a mighty claim you've made. Anything to back it up?" He couldn't believe that Arthur was smiling, and he most certainly couldn't believe that he was the cause of it.

Arthur's smile faltered like he genuinely couldn't think of anything to say. Like he'd hoped Alfred would just agree with him. He was so damn cute tonight, that Alfred couldn't stand to see him upset even for a second.  
"You're right, Arthur." He exhaled, smiling softly. "You're my best friend in the world, and you are one million times better than a burger joint."

0 0 0

Later after Alfred had dropped Arthur back at his apartment, Matthew leaned against the doorway of his room.

"I saw you out there," Matthew remarked. "With Arthur. Mom was kinda mad that you guys didn't come back in for dessert."

"Extra helpings for you though. That's a plus." Alfred shrugged out of his shirt, searching the laundry hamper for his pajama pants.

"Mom saved Arthur a slice in the fridge. She said you could bring it to him later."

"But spoiling him's my profession," Alfred pretended to whine, winking at his brother.

Instead of rolling his eyes, Matthew looked down at his socked feet. "You're a really good person, Alfred."

Alfred blinked. "Uh, what prompted this mood? Are you feeling alright?"

"Take a compliment, dickhead," Matthew growled, rolling his eyes. "I'm serious. Mom and I didn't see it before, but yeah."

"What? That I was a good person? Jeez, you guys are brutal." Alfred turned his back, though, as he began to realize what Matthew meant. Matthew had seen him out on his car with Arthur.

"No... you're..." Matthew exhaled. "He's completely different with you, Al. From talking with him today, he really needs someone positive like you in his life."

Alfred felt his face going red. It was one of the nicest things his brother had ever said to him. Right after the time he'd told Alfred he looked like Thor on the first day of kindergarten.

"Arthur's my bud," he shrugged childishly. "I can't let him stay sad. It's against my religion."

Matthew snorted. "Don't get me wrong. You're still an idiot. You're not even an important idiot. But there is something in Arthur's life that makes him hopeful. And I can't believe you haven't realized it yet."


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys! Sorry that it's been forever since I last updated. I've gone back to college for the year and am taking more classes than I should *despairs*. Updates will probably be erratic.**

 **That said, I hope you enjoy the new chapter. Please give it some love.**

 **Love you all, doze**

* * *

Alfred had the end of a pencil jabbed between his teeth and lead smeared up his nose. His Calculus notes and textbook were spread across the island of Arthur's kitchen. Midterms were nearly upon him and he was _so_ far from ready.

It felt like only yesterday that he stepped into senior year, peppy and wet behind the ears. One glance at the pudgy lump of his backpack, growing fatter by the day, made Alfred snort. Now he was scurrying to save his ass from imminent failure. As much as Arthur was his favorite person, the guy worked true evil on Alfred's waning productivity.

Admittedly, it wasn't the wisest idea to be studying for midterms at Arthur's apartment. Especially when Arthur seemed to give less than a damn about Alfred's grades. Arthur turned up the television, opened the window, and even started a running commentary on the show while Alfred chewed his pencil to smithereens, his mind boggled in equations.

Alfred was beginning to suspect that Arthur was out to fail him on purpose.

Take last night for instance.

Alfred had settled on Arthur's mildly bacterial floor with his headphones on. Texts from his British Lit class were scattered all around him in lumpy hills and valleys. His music was turned up so that he couldn't hear the sound of Arthur's soft porn cartoon. Occasionally, the fantastic colors of an ice cream ad would cause him to glance at the TV, but for the most part, he was really focused. Lit class could lick his ass.

As he worked, he hummed along to the tune of Sugar by Maroon 5. Pop music was his Achilles' heel. Even if the other guys were into rock and rap, Alfred still kept a surprising list of pop numbers on the ready. This particular song always had him bouncing along. Walking on sunshine in the literal sense.

As he contemplated yet another _Tale of Two Cities_ metaphor, he happened to glance up at Arthur. Arthur could pretend all he wanted that he didn't see Alfred in the corner, but Alfred could usually get Arthur to break character with a couple of funny faces. He was just about to puff out his cheeks when Arthur did something that surprised him.

He took off his shirt.

Other than that one time ages ago, Alfred hadn't seen Arthur shirtless. His mouth dropped open a little bit, and he closed it with an audible snap. The August heat had melted to September breezes to October leaves to November chill and now nearly December ice. It was much too cold for Arthur to be taking off his shirt… wasn't it?

If Arthur noticed him watching he didn't let on to it, dropping his shirt on the floor carelessly and stretching backwards as he reached for his beer. Alfred stared. In the light of the television, it was easy to see the dips and knicks in Arthur's skin from the burns that swathed across his torso. Even so, Alfred could only think about how incredibly handsome he was.

Arthur was slight, and sometimes he forgot about it because Arthur had such a commanding personality. He looked so small, swallowed there by his dingy couch. For a second, Alfred's libido was derailed as he considered how Arthur's ribs stuck out and how he could trace the outlines of bones in Arthur's chest. But then, though his concern remained, that image seemed to glitch out.

Because this was Arthur. Shirtless. And Alfred was eighteen years old and hopeless for him.

From here, he could make out the navy band of Arthur's boxers peeking out from his black jeans. Had Arthur been wearing his pants lower lately? Alfred wasn't keeping count but… this was the third time he'd seen Arthur's boxers this week. Maybe he was just getting hornier? Alfred shook his head in bewilderment and tried to peel his eyes away.

Despite his efforts, he continued to stare and Lit class slipped down the importance list of his life again.

When Arthur stood up, Alfred turned jumpily back to his textbooks, watching from his peripheral vision. Empty beer bottle in hand, Arthur shuffled his way to the kitchen. He pushed the bottle up against the counter, swinging open the fridge door and scratching the back of his head. His pants slipped further down his hips, and in the dim light Alfred could see the beginnings of his happy trail.

Singer Adam Levine continued to croon in his ear the whole while. _Sugar. Yes, please. Won't you come and put it down on me…_

"Fuck." Alfred hissed under his breath, standing in a rush of dropped books.

Arthur glanced over at him in confusion and he laughed nervously, one hand positioned carefully over his crotch. "Gotta pee."

His "pee" took a lot longer than it usually did. Waiting for an arousal to fade was just about the most depressing thing, but he didn't dare attempt to relieve himself in such close proximity. Even if he and Arthur were friends, he wasn't sure friends let friends jerk off in each other's restrooms.

As he fake-washed his hands, Alfred figured that was that. His Lit exam still loomed on the horizon, and there were plenty of other things that called for his attention back in the real world. He didn't have time for alluring fantasies about his best friend. With a steady head on his shoulders, he returned to Charles Dickens.

Or at least that's how he had planned it.

Alfred didn't so much as glance at Arthur as he settled in his spot again. Shoving his headphones back on, to find Adam Levine still cruising at top volume. Damn, his phone must have got set on repeat. _…down on me? Yeah, I want that red velvet. I want that sugar sweet…_

Alfred quickly flipped it out, all prepared to stop that train before it got swinging. Unfortunately, a particularly colorful ice cream ad drew his attention upwards and he got a full view of the couch and its occupant. Adam Levine continued to sing unhindered, because Alfred figured he must be dreaming.

Arthur's navy boxers were new. He thought distantly that they looked pretty comfortable. Soft and pliant fabric molding to the shape of… well.

Alfred made a strange noise in the back of his throat that even Arthur couldn't ignore.

Beer halfway to his lips, he asked blankly, "What?"

"Where are your pants?" Alfred said slowly.

Arthur smirked, pinching his boxers. "Right here."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. Where are your jeans?"

Arthur shrugged. "I'm ready for bed." He took a swig of his beer. "And I sleep in my boxers. Why are you acting strange?"

"Uh. Sorry." Alfred cleared his throat, ducking his head. Arthur was right; he was the one acting weird about it.

Needless to say, he got no studying accomplished that night.

Also, needless to say, he really shouldn't be studying at Arthur's. But Alfred wasn't one to learn from his mistakes.

The next day, he sighed over his many Calculus papers, glancing at Arthur (thankfully fully-clothed) on the couch. He knew he was young, but he didn't think his heart could take it again if he looked up like magic and saw Arthur's legs crossed together, bare all the way to his mid-thigh.

Pushing the book away, Alfred went to scrounge himself a beer from Arthur's fridge. His mom would have a heart attack knowing how much he actually drank at Arthur's house. It was far from the partying his friends got up to, but every once in awhile he and Arthur happened to get pleasantly buzzed at the same time. Arthur's jokes were funnier then and he tended to be a lot touchier… It sounded good, so Alfred swung the fridge door open.

The usual host of beers crowded the top shelf. Arthur's favorite brand was almost gone. Alfred could have sworn he'd taken Arthur to the store just the other day. Besides the beer, there was an expired jar of mayonnaise and a single pickle. Hadn't he just taken Arthur to the store? He was certain that... Of course, Arthur hadn't bought much. He never bought much…

Frowning, Alfred moved his investigation to the freezer. Empty. Ice clung to the walls, but that was it. At home, he couldn't even make out the back of his freezer. Growing worried, he checked the pantry. Nothing.

"Arthur," he called. "Want me to order a pizza?"

Arthur's response was more or less instant. "If you want. The number's on the counter."

"You wrote out the number?" Alfred raised his eyebrows incredulously.

"We eat it often enough." Arthur shot back without looking away from his program. "I'm surprised you don't have it memorized."

"Oh, and I guess you just assumed I didn't forget my wallet."

This time, Arthur did look, smiling like an angel. "You paid for petrol on the way here. Don't forget to tip the man."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Alfred muttered. He usually would have smiled at Arthur's antics, but the scarily blank fridge still flickered in front of his eyes.

On the counter, a ripped sheet of notebook paper had the number for the pizza place. Like Arthur had hoped he would ask...

Alfred bit his lip. He knew better than to approach the situation head on. If he asked Arthur outright, he would be shut out. Asking was bound to turn into a fight. Arthur still hadn't found another job. Everyday, he would meet Alfred after school with the same surly shrug. No luck. He didn't seem to mind Alfred paying for their pizza most days. In fact, today Arthur was depending on it, it seemed.

Their pizza arrived in a waft of greasy smelling heaven. Alfred confined himself to eating only two slices and watching Arthur. Arthur took to the pizza eagerly, finishing three pieces in the space of a heartbeat. He even discarded his cigarettes to use both his hands. If Alfred had any doubts, Arthur's large appetite laid them to rest.

Between the two of them, there usually weren't leftovers. But Alfred was determined to leave some for later.

If Arthur wouldn't ask for help directly, then he would just have to get creative.

0 0 0

Over the next few days, Alfred found increasingly inventive ways to leave food at Arthur's house. One time, he 'forgot' his Subway sandwich. Another he stole two loaves of bread from his mother and convinced Arthur to make experimental French toast with him, leaving Arthur with enough French toast for at least the next century. The next, he borrowed some of Matthew's workers comp from the bakery and nonchalantly gifted Arthur with a dozen bagels that would have been thrown away.

He was pretty sure his mother was on to him, when she caught him smuggling their entire branch of grapes into his car. But she accepted his, "I'm hungry!" excuses and let him be.

He brought popcorn and ice cream and candy and chips and anything he thought he could get away with bringing to a movie night when he convinced Arthur to watch The Exorcist with him. Arthur stared with a slightly dazed expression at the bag of food Alfred emptied onto his counter. Candies, and chocolate covered raisins, crackers, cookies. Alfred crumpled up his shopping bags and set to work, throwing the mound onto Arthur's pantry shelves.

"Do you expect to be snowed in?" Arthur asked with a weak chuckle.

Alfred met his green eyes and shrugged. "I just eat a lot, you know that."

"But you haven't been." Arthur accused softly. He played with the edge of a popsicle box.

Alfred ignored him. "Look. My mom made cookies, too. And they're really good. I'll bet you haven't had homemade stuff in ages. Try one." He shoved the cookie into Arthur's non-cigarette hand expectantly. Arthur didn't fight him, raising the treat to his lips. But he still had an odd look in his eyes.

"I don't even like white chocolate." He muttered around it, running his fingers through his hair. His shirt slipped up again, and Alfred had to reboot his brain to respond.

"Not all of it's for you."

Arthur merely raised his thick eyebrows, before snorting and rolling his eyes. "Whatever." He grabbed a bag of Lay's and stalked off to his couch, ripping into the bag and starting the movie without so much as waiting for Alfred to follow.

Sitting beside him, Alfred believed Arthur knew exactly what he was up to.

Yet… Arthur said nothing about it.

Alfred considered it to be sort of a victory? He had gotten Arthur to accept help from him. Albeit in the most convoluted way possible. It didn't matter. Arthur wouldn't starve on his watch.

Unfortunately, the feelings of victory wore off quickly. Damn! He had forgotten how scary The Exorcist was. Arthur watched him more than the movie with unrestrained amusement, laughing every time he jumped or shrieked.

"You didn't tell me you were such a baby." Arthur teased with a smirk, as he carefully peeled Alfred's death grip off his bicep.

"Don't be mean, Artie." Alfred howled. "God! Why did I pick this m-movie?"

"You were trying to find a film I wanted to watch as well." Arthur reminded him. He tapped his chin thoughtfully, with his cigarette hand. At the moment there was no cigarette there, just a hunk of Hershey's (milk) chocolate. "You know, you didn't ask but I was willing to watch that stupid Marvel movie if that's what you wanted to see."

"What! Why didn't you say so?"

"You never asked." Arthur rolled his eyes, sounding a bit perturbed. "You couldn't succeed in driving me off with only Captain America."

Alfred glanced at him, before smiling shakily. There was always some irrational part of him that insisted he wasn't cool enough for Arthur. "Would you sit through a Pixar movie too?"

"I like Pixar movies." Arthur said, astonishing him. "Have you seen Monsters Inc?"

"Of course!" Alfred chirped enthusiastically. "But that one's old. Have you seen Up?"

"Up? It's just called that?"

Alfred's eyes widened in disbelief and he grabbed Arthur by the hand in his enthusiasm. "What others haven't you seen? Do you know Nemo? The Incredibles? Ratatouille?"

"I've heard of some… yeah." He said, sounding shocked by Alfred's excitement. "You really like them?"

"I think you'll like them." Alfred smiled. "Tomorrow's Friday. How about we have a movie marathon at my house after school? It'll be fun. I've got that big TV, you know. One that doesn't fuzz out." As if on cue, The Exorcist blinked out again.

Arthur cursed light-heartedly at him, before sighing. "If that's… what you want to do."

"Is it what you want to do?"

Arthur lowered his head a bit, so that Alfred couldn't quite see his expression. "Whatever. I don't care."

Alfred grinned, dragging Arthur into a hug. The other man grew stiff enough that it would have deterred anybody else. But Alfred knew Arthur. And recently, more often than not, Arthur did care.

"You're getting chocolate on my shirt, idiot!"

Alfred pulled back with a lopsided grin. "Give me some."

"No."

"Not all of it's for you!"

"Don't lie to me."

Alfred swallowed nervously. "What?"

Arthur shoved the rest of the chocolate in his mouth, bending to retrieve a pack of Chips Ahoy. "You really have a warped view of nutrition, you know that. And I don't even like white chocolate."

Smiling tentatively, Alfred accepted a cookie from Arthur. "Uh, okay, King Arthur. Would you rather I brought over vegetables?"

"My teeth are going to rot out. Will you be paying for my dentist too?"

"You don't have to eat it!"

Arthur sighed over dramatically. "Well, I can't let it go to waste."

"Shut up." Alfred shoved him in the side, causing him to grunt. Admittedly, he hadn't thought farther than bringing Arthur food. Junk food just happened to be the easiest excuse.

"Why do you go through so much effort, honestly?" Arthur asked pompously, throwing his feet up in Alfred's lap. "For me?" He acted like the answer wasn't important. His eyes on the television screen.

Alfred glanced down at Arthur's feet and fiddled with his toes. "I can't have you starving," he whispered, feeling his voice catch. "I'd miss you too much."

"You're such a sap." Arthur grumbled.

And only much later when Alfred was falling asleep to the credits did the slightest of smiles slip past Arthur's guard.

0 0 0

Alfred was bouncing on air all seventh period. A movie night watching Pixar with Arthur. It sounded just about like a date to him, and he was willing to pretend that it was, even if it wasn't. This also provided him a chance to stuff Arthur full of burgers and movie snacks. By the time he was through with Arthur, Arthur wouldn't want to eat for a week.

Matthew complained light-heartedly that their living room would smell like a tobacco plantation again, but overall his brother seemed to find Alfred's antics amusing.

"Did he say 'I do', Al?" Matthew dared to ask under his breath as they walked out of the school together.

Alfred scowled at him. "Make a joke at your own peril, Matt. If you say anything like that around Arthur, I will kill you."

"And what if he reciprocates?" Matthew challenged.

"He doesn't."

"How do you know? Have you asked?"

Alfred shuddered at the very thought. "Look, Matt. We're barely friends as it is. I don't want to ruin it by telling him I want in his pants."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Alfred, I'm not stupid. There's more to it than that. For whatever bizarre reason… To be honest, I think it's cuz mom dropped you on your head as a baby. But you really like Arthur."

Alfred shrugged. "He's my best friend."

"I thought you were barely friends?"

"Yes, I mean, no, but it's complicated. I don't want to ruin things by opening my big mouth, okay? Drop it." Alfred frowned as his car came into view in the parking lot. Arthur wasn't sitting on it. He jogged up, his breath fogging around them from the cold.

Matthew wisely stopped making jokes. His eyebrows furrowed together. "Where is he?"

Even people they barely knew a couple cars down were watching them. Arthur was a fixture in the school parking lot whether anybody liked it or not. It was extremely noticeable that he wasn't there.

"You think I know?" Alfred spat sharply, already dialing Arthur's number on his phone. He flinched as the phone connected. This was a bit clingy, wasn't it? He should have texted. That would have seemed less desperate. But something could have happened to Arthur… something could have…

"Ah, Alfred." Arthur's familiar voice greeted him over the speaker. "I was hoping you'd call."

"Where are you?"

"At the apartment. Actually… outside the apartment."

"Why? What's happening?"

"I just need someone to pick me up." Arthur answered vaguely, sounding unconcerned. "Can you do that? It's okay if you're busy."

Alfred snorted. "Seriously, Arthur? I'm coming. Don't go anywhere."

"Where is he?" Matthew sounded very wary after Alfred hung up. Like he expected Arthur to be in jail again. It was hard to get offended when Alfred still worried about it, too.

"He's just at the apartment. He said he needed someone to pick him up. I'm sure he's fine."

Matthew didn't look convinced, but he nodded. "I'll tell mom you guys will be later."

As Alfred pulled up to Arthur's apartment complex, he realized why Arthur had needed someone to pick him up. And why Arthur had said "outside" the apartment.

Arthur was sitting on his couch in a frosty bit of grass, surrounded by all his belongings. The thin wisp of his cigarette drifted calmly up through the winter gray, and Arthur exhaled a patch of white.

Alfred got out of his car, frowning. "Did… did you get evicted?"

Arthur fiddled with his cigarette a moment before answering. "It would seem so."

"Why?"

Arthur shrugged. "Renters are like that. They expect to be paid for their accommodations."

"Oh." Alfred looked at his feet. "Do you have somewhere to stay?"

"I'll find somewhere." Arthur said, getting to his feet. "So? Pixar?"

Alfred just looked at him in disbelief. "Let's get your stuff out of the snow first."

Arthur shrugged. "It's all shit anyway."

Alfred managed to cram all of Arthur's belongings, bar the furniture, into his car. He examined Arthur's couch in dismay. Matthew owned a small pick-up truck. If they found some ropes, it might do. He was just about to ask Arthur when he saw the steaming pile of cigarette butts glittering in the frost on the ground.

Arthur had his back turned and his shoulders hiked up. All his concentration was on the cigarette in his mouth. His green eyes were distant and faraway, like glass. Alfred sighed. He had thought it was weird for Arthur to act so nonchalant about all this. Really, Arthur was only hiding his worry.

There were lots of frustrating things about Arthur. Like how he paid for cigarettes and not for food. For beer and not for transportation. How he blew up about little things, but pretended that big things didn't faze him. Alfred exhaled a thick cloud of white, coming to stand beside him.

Arthur jumped, jerked abruptly from his thoughts. "Almost through?"

"Yeah, thanks for helping." Alfred said sarcastically. His fingers were going blue with cold. Little white snowflakes were gathering friends, thickening in swirls around them.

Arthur shrugged. "I don't care about any of that stuff anyway."

"It's all you have." Alfred pointed out, to which he received an even surlier shrug. "I'm sorry, Arthur."

Arthur looked away. "About what? It was inevitable."

"I wish you would have told me sooner. I want to help you, Arthur."

"I don't want your help."

Alfred bit back an angry retort, groaning. "Why not? You need it."

"I don't." Arthur disagreed sharply. "I've made it fine on my own this far. I don't need your help at all."

Alfred glared at the ground until he trusted himself to speak again. "I'm sorry, Arthur."

"Stop apologizing!" Arthur exploded. "It isn't— None of it's your fault!"

"I know." Alfred responded and then shrugged. "I'm not apologizing like that. I feel sorry for you. That's why I say it."

"I don't want your pity." Arthur snarled, hurling his cigarette at the ground and facing Alfred with flames in his eyes. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You couldn't possibly know everything that's been going on."

"You're right." Alfred said in exasperation. "But that's not my fault. You won't tell me anything, Arthur. What do you expect me to do about that? Do you want me to give up?"

The words seemed to genuinely confound Arthur because he took a wary step backwards like a caged animal. "Well, I can't just tell you. What do you even want to know?" He said in a haggard whisper, watching Alfred through his wild fringe. His shoulders drooped a little as he fished for another cigarette. But the pack came up empty. "I can't just tell you."

"Why not?" Alfred murmured. "Its going to take more than this to drive me away." He smiled sadly at Arthur, watching him fling the empty cigarette pack into the snow and produce another one from his jacket pocket. "Arthur, I'll ask my mom if you can stay at our place. I just… She'll want to know that you're really trying. You have to keep going to your counseling, and I don't think she'll let you smoke. And if you don't find a job—

"I found a job." Arthur interrupted in a curious voice. He didn't quite meet Alfred's eyes. "I found a job. They… they called me this morning. I start n-next week."

"You did?" Alfred's eyes widened and then he grinned in sheer relief. "Oh, Arthur, that's really good news. I'm so happy for you."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably under Alfred's smile. "She'll let me stay with you, then?… Just until I have enough to find another place, of course."

"I think so," Alfred nodded. "I have to ask her, but let's get out of the cold first, okay? Your lips are blue." Despite himself, he put an arm around Arthur's shoulders and led him to the car. Once again, he was struck by how small Arthur was, standing against it all. After the loss of his apartment. He opened Arthur's car door, but he stopped Arthur from getting in, insisting on another hug.

Arthur scowled at him, breathing smoke in his face. But this prickly shell wasn't enough to drive Alfred away. It wouldn't ever be. Arthur stepped into Alfred's embrace when he realized resistance was futile. This was different from last night's embrace. Arthur rested his head hesitantly against Alfred's chest, one of his hands splayed out against Alfred's bicep. The raw skin of Arthur's inner wrist was looking bruised again. For a second, a barely discernible second, he felt Arthur relax against him.

Then the moment was passed and Arthur smoked his next pack.

0 0 0

Ratatouille was playing on the big screen as Arthur worked his way through a mammoth bowl of popcorn some time later. Behind him in the kitchen, Alfred and his mother had a quiet discussion in the kitchen, which included a lot of begging.

"Please, ma." Alfred whispered. "He doesn't have anywhere to go. He said he just got another job. It'll only be for a little while. He promised not to smoke indoors. Please?"

"Slow down, Alfred." She murmured back, watching him as he played anxiously with his hoodie strings. "I'm not going to leave him starving out in the cold. He already looks thinner than when I last saw him."

Alfred perked up hopefully, but his mother only met him with a stern expression. "If he agrees to the rules I lay down, then I'll allow him to stay. It's my house, and he needs to follow my rules."

Alfred nodded earnestly. "That's what I told him. He will, ma. He's a good guy."

She sighed. "I'm willing to try this, Alfred, but this isn't a free-for-all. Arthur needs to be responsible to stay here."

Alfred frowned. "Ma, he is responsible. I promise he—

"No, he isn't." She interrupted. "He let himself get evicted from his apartment without seeking any help. He seems to place more weight on his tobacco addiction than on paying rent. Alfred, I know you care about him, but this is a lesson for you. He's been very irresponsible. If anything, he needs to seek help, so that he can get this under control."

Alfred lowered his head a bit. She was right, but she didn't understand. There was more to Arthur's story than that. Surely there was a reason he had such a difficult time. He opened his mouth to say so, but she interrupted again.

"Don't look at me like that. It takes more than chance for a person to end up in his situation. Not all of it is his fault." She sighed. "I just don't want you to get hurt, Alfred. Arthur won't mean to, but he doesn't know how to be in the sort of relationship that you want. I'm afraid he's really going to hurt you."

Alfred balked, feeling his cheeks turn bright red. Was he really that obvious to everybody? "I don't—" He sputtered, glaring at the ground. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She looked like she would push him, but something over his shoulder caught her eye and she fell quiet.

"Alfred?"

Alfred turned to see Arthur standing awkwardly at the edge of the kitchen with an empty popcorn bowl.

"Are you coming to watch the rest of the film?" Arthur's ears were beginning to turn red. He tended to act strange around Alfred's mom.

"Yeah," Alfred gathered his enthusiasm and smiled. "Here for your popcorn fix?"

Arthur held up the empty bowl.

"So do you like it so far?" Alfred asked as he threw another bag of popcorn into the microwave.

"It's cute." Arthur yawned suddenly and scrapped a hand across his face.

Alfred gently bumped his shoulder. "Rather take a nap?"

"No, no, I have to know how it ends now."

Alfred's lips twitched. "Me too. Let's see how it ends."

"Don't you already know how it ends?" Arthur asked around another yawn as they settled on the couch together.

"Kinda. But you never know when things will take a turn." Alfred unpaused the movie and relaxed back.

Arthur was silent for a few minutes, before he agreed. "Yeah. Maybe things will take a turn." And then he rested his cheek against Alfred's shoulder, and Alfred didn't know what to say.


	9. Chapter 9

**And it's the chapter you've all been waiting for! Haha, probably not. Sorry for the long hiatus there guys. I haven't forgotten about this. I meant to post around Halloween as well, but that didn't happen.**

 **Please enjoy!**

 **Much love, doze**

* * *

Arthur was playing with an unlit cigarette, bouncing it lightly against the dining room table. Alfred sat beside him, trying hard to keep the excitement out of his posture. Maybe it was childish, but he was so looking forward to living with his best friend. It was every child's dream. This was like the prolonged sleepover of the century.

Alfred grinned at his mom, who matched him with a stern look. It didn't suit her features. She could never stay stern with Alfred for long.

"There will be some rules," She began, waiting until Arthur met her gaze. "Are you listening?"

"I'm listening." He muttered, ducking his head again.

"Good. These are the two most important rules. The rest are negotiable, but you'll be hard pressed to negotiate with me." She smirked, causing Alfred and Arthur to shudder.

"Get on with it, ma." Alfred grumbled uncomfortably. She always had to embarrass him in front of his friends. He and Arthur were adults. They didn't need rules like grade schoolers.

"Alright. First," She held up one finger. "No smoking."

Arthur exhaled, dropping the unlit cigarette on the table. "Does that include outdoors?"

"Two mile radius. Get out and measure it." She said mercilessly. "Smoking is horrendously bad for you, and nicotine addiction isn't a joke. I won't have it in my house. Your lungs are yours to do what you will, but Alfred and the rest of us don't have to breathe it."

"Mom." Alfred growled, feeling his ears burn redder. She didn't need to include him in that statement. He'd already made it perfectly clear that he'd breathe smoky air any day if it meant he got to spend time with Arthur.

"Do we have an understanding?" She pressed and Arthur finally offered Alfred a half-smile.

"I suppose I'll be doing a lot of walking away from your house then."

Alfred scowled, but said nothing. He knew his mother would say no to the smoking.

"Second most important rule." She paused like she was enjoying this, before saying bluntly, "No sex."

Alfred's mouth dropped open in shock and Arthur seemed to be having a similar reaction beside him.

"Mom!" He squeaked indignantly. "Arthur and I aren't— We're not even— He—

Alfred couldn't even speak. His face was going tomato red. She had to bring that up?!

"No sex." She repeated, looking devilishly amused. "I didn't say anything about it being between you two. That's the rule. No night guests. No parties. And for the love of god, no sex. With anyone."

"Two mile radius?" Arthur dared to say, with a faint smirk tracing his lips.

She turned on him with all her mama bear fury. "You wipe that smirk off your face, Arthur Kirkland. While you live under this roof, no sex period."

Arthur didn't bother to bite back his smile, barking a laugh. He relaxed beside Alfred, glancing up at him. "What a shame." He said with such a sexy little smirk that Alfred nearly lost it.

Was this flirting? Was Arthur flirting with him? This was just a joke, right? Arthur and his mom were just ribbing each other.

"Mmmph," His mom settled backwards. "I can already see I've made a mistake. Bed, now, both of you."

Alfred blinked in bewilderment. "It's only 10:30."

"And you'll only get into trouble if I let you up longer. Go."

Alfred stared at her in pure disbelief. He hadn't a bedtime since he was thirteen. "Mom—

"Go."

Arthur seemed more amused than angry, falling into step beside Alfred with a faint smile. "Your mum is brilliant." He informed Alfred with his hand on the guest bedroom door. "Absolutely brilliant."

"What universe are you living in?" Alfred grumbled, irritated by Arthur's widening smile. "I haven't had a bedtime in like five years. You've ruined it for me."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You need a bedtime, and I don't mind one. I'm getting free food out of this bargain. I'll shave my head and join the monastery if that's the price."

"You're crazy." Alfred told him flatly, but he had to smile a bit at Arthur's relaxed expression. For whatever reason, Arthur and his mother got on well. Maybe this would turn out to be a good thing yet. "See you in the morning."

Arthur paused as if working out the meaning of the words, before saying softly back, with the smallest of smiles, "See you in the morning."

0 0 0

Alfred rejoined the land of the living Saturday morning to find someone rummaging through his dirty jeans. "Arthur?"

"Where are your keys?" Arthur demanded, straightening up. He was still in his rumpled clothes from yesterday, eyeliner smeared across the bridge of his nose. An unlit cigarette waggled between his teeth, his hand on his hip.

"My… keys?" Alfred said slowly, turning to check the time. "Christ, it's six a.m., Arthur. Go back to bed."

"Can't sleep." Arthur crossed his arms impatiently. "Keys, Alfred."

"Why do you need them?" Slowly he sat up, massaging back his wild hair and cracking his neck.

"All my stuff is in your car, for one." Arthur pointed out irritably.

"Oh."

"And two, I can't sleep."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Rolling his eyes at Alfred's horrendous stupidity, Arthur removed the unlit cigarette just starting to go soggy from between his teeth. He waved it back and forth like a white flag.

"Oh." Alfred said again, rather inelegantly.

"If you would kindly hurry, I'm about to go mad." Arthur bit down on the cigarette again. As Alfred cast off the remaining vestiges of sleep, he saw it more clearly. Arthur's frazzled expression and the way he bounced from foot to foot. He was looking paler than usual, even a little bit green. "But you can't drive…"

"Fuck all, Einstein." Arthur snapped. "I was aware. I just want to grab my jumper and lighters. Any day now."

Alfred groaned, trying to remember where he threw his car keys last night. With Arthur breathing down his neck this time of morning, it was almost impossible to think. And Arthur really was in a _lovely_ mood today. His lip curled up in a sneer, nose wrinkled, smelling like old sweat and stale tobacco. It seemed the magic of their sleepover had worn off rather quickly. Who in their right mind wanted to get up at six a.m. on a Saturday to smoke?

"Found 'em." Alfred muttered as he resurfaced from underneath his bed. He shoved on a pair of slippers and his puffy winter jacket. Arthur was already on his way to the front door.

The house was haloed in silence. Only the occasional creak of the wood flooring broke the spell. Tank, curled up tight in his doggy basket, didn't move. He blinked a big brown eye at Alfred, looking confused and mopey. When Arthur swung open the front door, the dog burrowed his head deeper in the down of the bed to ward off the cold.

Alfred cursed between clenched teeth as he descended his porch steps. A fresh coat of snow glittered in the streetlamps. The sun had yet to make its appearance, and the concrete was slick with frost. A bone-numbing wind slashed through his thin pajama pants with ease, burning mercilessly against his skin.

Arthur shifted from foot to foot, hands balled in his pockets, as he waited at the car for Alfred to unlock it. They were the only ones out in the neighborhood on such a lovely Saturday morning. Alfred popped the trunk for Arthur, who looked near hypothermia already, in only short sleeves. He pulled on the first jacket he could get his hands on, shoving three packs of cigarettes and two lighters in his pockets.

Arthur's jacket was still much too light for this weather. Alfred frowned at him, ducking his chin beneath his collar as another rush of wind hit them.

"Where are you going?"

"Two miles from here." Arthur responded as he began to crunch through the snow on the driveway.

"Don't be stupid. You can't walk around in this weather."

"Fuck off, Alfred. I'll be back later."

Alfred scowled. "Get in the car."

"What?"

"Get in the car, asshole. I'm not letting you freeze to death for a cigarette. I'll drive you somewhere. Come on."

Arthur glared at him, all irritation and anger. He stayed where he was for so long that Alfred was about to snap. It wasn't exactly his ideal way to spend a Saturday morning, catering to Arthur's nicotine addiction.

Then Arthur's expression changed into something softer and sadder. He started to pick at the skin inside his wrists again, speaking quietly and quickly. "I can walk, Alfred. Please go back to bed. You've… done enough for me."

A wave of guilt washed over Alfred and he sighed loudly, glancing back at the house. "I'm up anyways." He looked back and forced a smile. "Let's go. I can get some donuts or something to make it worth it. Come on." He came towards Arthur, grabbing him purposefully by one of his scarred wrists and dragging him to the passenger side.

Alfred drove them to a nearby neighborhood park. He wasn't sure if it was two miles away or not, but it would do for now. Arthur hunched miserably outside, leaning against the hood of his car. Flipping through cigarettes with incredibly talented fingers. He shielded his lighter from the wind. Even with the shivers wracking violently up and down his body, he went on sucking at his cigarette like it was his saving grace.

Eventually, Alfred took pity on him and let him smoke in the car where the heater worked. He'd already gotten used to the smell of smoke, and the car reeked with it anyway. Arthur balanced the nearly empty pack against his knee, his head leaned back against the seat.

"Sorry."

Alfred who had his eyes closed, only shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

The silence stretched around them, surprisingly comfortable. Used to, sitting in silence with Arthur made him anxious. But he felt more confident now. He was friends with Arthur as much as Arthur was friends with him.

With this knowledge, Alfred decided to ask a question he would have held back before. "Have you ever tried to quit?"

"Smoking?" Arthur clarified unnecessarily. Alfred cracked an eye open to find him shifting uncomfortably. His smoky breaths came a bit faster. The molten end of the cigarette gleaming like a third eye between his yellowed teeth.

"No, ice dancing."

Arthur released such a long stream of smoke that for a minute his features were obscured. "I couldn't stop."

"You tried?"

"…No."

Alfred blinked. "Then how do you…"

"I know." Arthur took another drag. "I don't need to try to know."

"Aren't you worried about your health?"

"My health?" Arthur raised a single thick eyebrow. "It's a wonder my health's held out as long as it has. I've spit on it enough times and had others step on it as well. It's no use worrying about it. It'll go away no matter what I do."

Alfred bit his lip, surprised by how much the comment upset him.

"Besides," Arthur continued, twirling the cigarette across his fingertips. "Even if I did care, I couldn't quit. The second I stop, even for a few hours, I get unreasonable."

"More unreasonable than you already are?" Alfred joked, but Arthur only met his gaze seriously.

"When I assaulted that man for insulting you, I was off work. I was going to have a cigarette. My mind was… fried. As it so happens, I don't regret that instant of idiocy. But…" Arthur swallowed quickly, looking away. "Well, I do regret sending you to the hospital."

"Mmph." Alfred nudged Arthur with his shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll get you back someday."

"The point is I can't focus without a bit of nicotine. You think I have an anger problem? I won't deny it. I probably do, but I know how to handle myself. I've been doing it on my own for years. A cigarette in the morning to wake me up and several to put me to sleep at night. And who knows how many in between, none of it matters then. I can smoke and the world isn't so serious anymore. Nothing can touch me."

Alfred didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure Arthur had ever been so honest with him.

"Just think of how I treated you this morning. I'm a bastard, but I can usually tone it down when I'm talking to my landlord."

"I'm not your landlord."

"As good as." Arthur flicked the remains of a cigarette out the window. "It's just stupid to pick fights with people who give you charity."

Alfred cocked his head. "Arthur… I'm your friend, right?"

Arthur stared at him like a deer in the headlights.

"I know we're friends." Alfred continued quickly. "But… I just… you never say it… all that… all that often." He finished lamely, looking out the window. His ears went red.

"What? Do you want me to profess my undying love for you?" Arthur said acidly, but he still looked rather wide-eyed.

Alfred reached to put the car in gear. "Never mind."

Arthur continued to watch him warily, before blurting out, "We're friends, okay? Is that good enough?"

Alfred opened his mouth to say yes, but looking at Arthur, haggard in the dawn light. His wild blonde hair wilted across his forehead, sticking out near his ears. Even his thick eyebrows were messy, contrasting sharply with the pure green of his eyes. His yellowed, crooked teeth that he kept hidden by a fierce frown were just visible, his mouth slightly open. Maybe being friends wasn't good enough.

Alfred swallowed nervously. "I don't know." He whispered.

"You don't know if you want to be friends anymore?" Arthur repeated carefully.

"No, I…" Alfred struggled to explain himself without giving anything away. What was he doing? Of course, being friends with Arthur was good enough. Every day he got closer to the guy, his world grew a bit brighter. He loved drawing out Arthur's smile and his laugh! Trying out new television shows, coasting through mounds of junk food, laying across each other on the couch. Even though there were parts of him… parts of him that wanted more access.

He hugged Arthur nowadays when he felt brave, when the situation called for it. But he wanted to hug Arthur whenever. He didn't want to have to wait for the perfect, innocuous moment. Sometimes he thought about holding Arthur's hand. Sometimes he wondered what kissing Arthur would taste like. If it would really be like licking an ashtray or if it would set him on fire. Beneath that heady tobacco scent, Arthur smelled strangely like vinyl and cinnamon air freshener. His cologne, when he wore it, was some kind of off brand Ralph Lauren.

Now what Alfred really wanted was to get close enough to figure him all out. All his clashing scents. His mixed signals. His uncertainties. His secrets, the burns beneath his shirt. Alfred wanted to get close enough to make Arthur feel warm again. To make Arthur forget his cigarettes for good.

And now he wondered if he would be brave enough to make the first move. If he was brave enough to risk rejection or embarrassment, he opened his mouth, searching for the words. But Arthur took his chance away from him.

"I understand." He said in a gruff voice. "I'm not much of a friend."

"Arthur, that's not what I—

"I understand." Arthur interrupted again, looking away swiftly.

Alfred's mouth dropped in astonishment when Arthur swiped angrily at his eyes with his fist. His hands were shaking violently. Despite his attempts to still them, Arthur couldn't get the cigarette in his mouth properly, jamming it against his upper lip.

"Arth—

"I understand!" Arthur interjected loudly. "For fuck's sake, Alfred. This isn't a new experience for me. You think I don't know how to handle it!"

Alfred fell off warily, worried by the tension in Arthur's voice.

"I've been… I've been waiting for you to say it ever since I met you." Arthur ground out the words like he was retching up glass. "Don't think I'm surprised. Just… give me a day to sort out where to put all my things. I'll be out of your hair then. I've got places to be."

Alfred touched his shoulder. "Arthur."

"Don't touch me."

Feeling that he might get bitten otherwise, Alfred dropped his hand. "You're not understanding me. I was just too afraid to say it outright."

"I promise I won't knife you in your sleep, Alfred. Your mum doesn't have to call the police. I'll leave willingly."

Alfred scowled. "Would you shut up for a minute and let me explain? You're such a martyr, Arthur. I don't want you to go anywhere. For the record, you're my best friend in the world as I've said god knows how many times."

"You're young," Arthur mumbled. "In high school. You can change your mind."

Alfred groaned in exasperation. "And you're so old and wise? Give me a break. Look, I like you, Arthur. I like you… a lot."

"Then," Arthur's voice lifted up in confusion. His whole manner exuded caution. He didn't trust Alfred, not really. "What did you mean before?"

"I meant that, you asked that, if being friends was good enough?" Alfred took a deep breath. "And I said no. It's not good enough." He swallowed, eyeing Arthur's blank expression.

"Okay?"

"I don't want to be just friends."

"What do you want then?" Arthur's confusion was beginning to morph into frustration. Alfred's frustration was growing too. Could the guy be this dumb? But then he thought about it a second longer and wondered if anybody had asked Arthur to go steady before. If he'd ever been anybody's boyfriend. Anybody's SO. He'd obviously never been anybody's best friend.

"I want to be more than friends." Alfred explained softly. "I think you're very… handsome." Red rushed up into his face, while he waited for Arthur's reaction. It took a moment, a second of delay like a long distance call. Then both their faces were flushed sticky red in the dawn light.

"Oh." Arthur said. "Oh." He fiddled obsessively with the cigarette pack, while Alfred waited with bated breath. He hadn't blown up about it, so maybe…

"What do you think?" Alfred pressed when he couldn't take the silence any longer.

"I've—No one's ever asked before." Arthur shifted anxiously. "Sorry. I don't know what to say. Aren't I… aren't I too old for you?"

Alfred opened his mouth to shoot the objection down, until he realized it wasn't an objection at all. It was a genuine question. Arthur looked so unsure of himself that it was suddenly adorable.

"Not really." He said conversationally. "I'm eighteen, which makes me an adult. You're five years older than me. That's no big deal."

"Okay." Arthur swallowed.

Silence filled the car again and Alfred blurted, feeling like a boy with his first crush, "Well, do you like me?"

"I think you're," Arthur hesitated, before smiling hesitantly, his familiar crooked smile, "very handsome."

It was one of the sweetest, most innocent things Arthur had ever said to him. Alfred's heart burned like a live wire inside his chest, and he bravely reached forward to claim one of Arthur's hands in his. It didn't matter that he was eighteen and supposed to be experienced at this. He was nervous as hell. All of it felt new again. Being in love was like baptism by fire. The light was blinding, the sensation painful, but the rush mind-blowing.

"Have you—have you ever had a boyfriend before?"

"No," Arthur admitted. "Just…" He fell off.

"Just what?"

"Sexual partners. Lots of them." He looked away, actually looking ashamed.

But Alfred gripped his hand tighter. "That's okay."

"Have you?"

"What?"

"Have you ever had a boyfriend before?"

"No." Alfred grinned, watching the relief as it played out across Arthur's features. "Only girlfriends."

"Why?" Arthur whispered after some minutes of silence, staring at their joined hands.

"Why what?"

"Why me?"

Alfred shrugged. "You're my best friend. You always make my day better. I've wanted to ask you for quite awhile. I just was afraid."

"You thought I would say no?"

"You still haven't said yes."

"I can't tell whether you're serious or not."

"I am. I'm serious."

"Then." Arthur looked away again. "Yes, I suppose. Although, I don't know what I'm doing. And I'm bound to be terrible at it like everything else."

"Hush." Alfred interrupted him, grasping his other hand. They held eye contact and he couldn't hold down his excitement anymore. "You don't need to do anything. I already like you, Arthur."

The last of Arthur's walls seemed to crumble. Looking into his eyes, Alfred watched it fall. There, somewhere, he saw the depths of Arthur's loneliness and the sometimes painful desire he felt to be wanted. He'd been lost in the wide world so long that it wasn't a hope anymore, but a torment. He didn't expect anyone to want him for him. To want him at all.

Alfred let go of one of his hands, reaching up to run it through Arthur's wily hair. And then to hesitantly and clumsily stroke his cheek. He hadn't had any stuffed animals to practice on, so his moves were bound to be a little rusty. But Arthur's eyes filled with tears. He scrubbed furiously at them with his fist.

And Alfred laughed sadly. "Am I that terrible at this?"

Arthur didn't answer, or couldn't. He didn't brush Alfred's touches away or let go of his hand. Alfred wished they weren't in the car, because it seemed like now was a good time to give Arthur a proper hug. Finally, Arthur's tears slowed and he rubbed obsessively at his eyes, only making them redder.

Alfred had seen Arthur cry enough times to know that his nose got a button tip of red. His cheeks looked like they'd been splashed with blush from his mother's makeup kit. And his eyes were like the pickled ones in those old mad scientist movies, bloodshot and bulging. Until today, he'd never seen Arthur attempt his crooked smile through his tears.

It was slightly heartbreaking to see all Arthur's genuine emotions at once when he normally did such a good job pretending he didn't have any. Alfred reached out and ruffled his hair. "You're alright, huh? We're boyfriends now, and I don't want to see you crying like that again ever. I want you to be happy."

"Good luck, then." Arthur said, his voice stopped up, but he looped his fingers through Alfred's obligingly. "I remember you saying something about donuts before."

Alfred grinned. "I'm turning you into a pig."

Arthur snorted. "If so, I'm only taking after you."

In the Dunkin Donuts parking lot, they feasted their way through a diverse dozen. It felt strangely like the world had shifted in some fundamental way. When Arthur was too full to continue, he laid his head against Alfred's shoulder. He was tense until Alfred threw an arm around him reassuringly.

Neither of them had wanted to leave the privacy of the car for the restaurant so they had used the drive through. Now with no one but the sparse Saturday morning crowd, he and Arthur got used to one another in a new way.

"How long?" Arthur asked sleepily. After his cigarettes and his donuts, he seemed ready to put the day to rest again for his bed.

"How long what?" Alfred licked chocolate icing contentedly off his fingers.

"How long have you liked me?"

Alfred frowned. "I'm not sure. It was kind of a slow realization. For a long time, though."

"I didn't think you would ever like me." Arthur responded, sounding so secure that it boggled Alfred's mind. Arthur, by definition, wasn't open about things like this. "But I liked you from the moment you spoke to me at McDonalds."

Alfred blinked. "Really?"

Arthur's lips twitched. "Well, I don't tell you everything."

"You don't tell me anything."

"Exactly. Life's never turned out very well for me, but that doesn't mean I don't have a great imagination."

"Could you have imagined this?" Alfred drummed his fingers against Arthur's shoulders.

"Probably." He answered, poking at a crème donut with his finger, considering it. "But it would have only made me depressed so I wouldn't have."

"Why depressed?"

"Because I know that it wouldn't ever happen."

"It's happening."

"Keep reminding me. I'm liable to start believing I'm on an acid trip in a few minutes. If we weren't doing something so mundane, I'd be sure that I was tripping."

Alfred snorted. "We're basically doing what we always do. Eating junk food and laying on top of each other."

"See, I used to do the laying around bit by myself, but it's a lot more fun this way."

"I agree." Alfred laughed warmly. He felt Arthur lean closer against him.

"And the laying on top of each other is allowed to get a lot more interesting now." Arthur added mischievously.

"Careful. We're in danger of breaking rule number 2"

"She only said sex." Arthur laughed bravely.

"And what did you have in mind?"

Arthur faltered for a minute, before he whispered, "Nothing. I just want to enjoy this."

Alfred nodded. "I think I still have to get used to it."

"Me too."

They fell into comfortable silence. Arthur's cheek was pressed against his chest. Arthur's wild hair tickled under his chin. He started to close his eyes before a question occurred to him.

"Arthur?"

Arthur only grunted, sounding like he'd been about to doze off.

"Did you do it on purpose?"

"Wha?"

"Did you take off your clothes the other day on purpose?"

"Oh, that." Arthur snickered. His crooked smile made a reappearance. "I wanted to wind you up. I didn't think you liked me or anything like that. You're just such a prude. I thought it would be fun."

"Bastard."

"Is it really news to you?"

"I wish you would share these jokes with me more often," Alfred said thoughtfully. "You're a funny guy, Arthur, but I almost never seem to know what's going on in your head."

Arthur shrugged, fiddling with Alfred's hoodie string. "It's safer that way."

"You can trust me."

Arthur didn't respond for a moment, before he exhaled. "Can't you tell that I already do? No one knows as much about me as you do, Alfred. Most of the time when you ask, I tell you, even if you don't realize it. I've never wanted you to go away. I just say the wrong things half the time."

Alfred frowned. "I guess so, but—

"Take what happened earlier," Arthur cut in hurriedly, keeping his eyes well faraway from Alfred's. "If you had really wanted to stop being friends, I wouldn't have given up that easily. I would have left like you wanted. I wouldn't have talked to you for a few days, a few weeks. But I'd… I'd do something. I know I would. I'd go on a bender. I'd punch someone on the street. I'd get hit by a car. I don't know. Maybe not even on purpose, but I'd get you to come. I'd get you to come back into my life, if only for a few minutes to tell the doctors or the police that you don't care what happens to me."

Alfred's mouth dropped in horror. "Arthur, that's terrible. Don't hurt yourself for goodness sake. Man, just…" He wanted to ask why Arthur was so convoluted. Why he wouldn't have just called or tried to make up or even have asked like a reasonable person why Alfred didn't want to be friends anymore. But some part of him knew that he didn't need to ask, Arthur had been on his own in life for much too long.

He shifted around to meet Arthur's eyes, surprised by the bone-deep tiredness in them. Conversations, real ones, exhausted Arthur. He looked somewhere between passing out and having an anxiety attack. Alfred sighed and tightened his grip around him. "I'm not going anywhere. You said you wanted me, so now you'll have to live with the consequences."

"You too." Arthur whispered.

"I accept the consequences then." He said teasingly, brushing his lips in Arthur's hair. Even if he had realized what would come along with those words, he wouldn't have taken them back.

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 **Any reviews, follows, and faves are much appreciated. Please check out my late Halloween post, doze-style demon AU. :)**


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